The Forest Primeval
by immortalbeloved13
Summary: A series of Daryl/Carol moments set throughout the series, up through "Sick." Title comes from Longfellow's Evangeline.
1. Days Gone Bye

A/N: This is my first Walking Dead fic, so I hope I got the characters right. This is going to be mostly about the evolution of Carol and Daryl's relationship through the series so far. I've been shipping them for a while now, so Season 2 thus far has really been a treat. Please let me know what you think, good or bad, by taking some time to review. I'd really appreciate it.

This chapter takes place around the time of the first episode. Each chapter will be based on an episode.

Oh, and I own nothing.

**Chapter One: Days Gone Bye**

He'd known how it was with them from the moment the group had first come together on the highway.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Carol Peletier, had been friendly enough, but the look in her eyes was one that as all too familiar to Daryl. She was pretty, in a delicate sort of way, but she looked older than she was, and she seemed so tired. The arms that she had crossed protectively over her chest when Merle had stalked over to them had been covered in new and fading bruises. Merle had given her husband, Ed, a knowing look, and the bastard had just smirked about it, like he was some kind of man.

Ed Peletier abused his wife and child, and didn't give a shit who knew. Daryl saw it in more than just the bruises too: there was the woman's short haircut (long hair was easier to grab) and how skittish she got whenever someone got too close. The girl wasn't so bad off as her mother, but she clung to her parent like a little shadow. She had barely looked up at Daryl as Merle introduced them, her eyes going back to a point on the ground after just meeting his.

Daryl had been the same way when he was a boy, before his mother died. Once she was gone, there was no one to cling to. He had sought comfort with Merle once, the day they buried her, but the only thing he'd gotten was a smack to the side of his head. He'd never tried it again, even though now his brother was all he had left. There'd be no comfort in this new world either; he was supposed to help his brother survive, and to hush up while doing it.

After Atlanta was bombed, they all decided the best thing to do would be to wait things out by a quarry they had passed several miles back. It was a good vantage point, and there would be plenty of water and game to keep them going for some time. It was also close enough to the city that they'd be able to see if any rescue efforts came along, once the government got its shit together. Daryl's hopes weren't too high, but he knew the quarry was a good spot anyway.

Merle had given Daryl's arm a nasty twist when the younger man had suggested the move.

"You keep this up little brother, we'll have every pansy ass in the tri-state area seeking refuge. This ain't a time to be playing Mother Theresa! You keep your damn mouth shut from now on."

Daryl had just stalked off and gotten into their truck, never noticing that Mrs. Peletier was watching him with a knowing and sympathetic look in her eye.

. . .

Camp was mostly quiet. They'd had to deal with a few walkers, but nothing like most of them had dealt with so far. They had a boy—_Glenn, don't let Merle know you know his name_—making supply runs into the city, and sometimes the others would tag along, Merle included. Daryl was always grateful for the respite from his brother since it meant he could hunt in peace. Merle was methed out half the time anyway, and wasn't much use out in the woods.

Everyone was doing their part, in their own way. Except for Ed Peletier. As far as Daryl could tell, all he did was loaf around and make sure his wife's supply of fresh bruises never ran short. Daryl was thinking of taking the man hunting with him, but if he tried anything out there it would be too obvious. So, he stayed as close as he could, and tried to keep his watching the woman and child a secret from Merle. His brother would only laugh at him, or make things worse.

. . .

He had his first real conversation with the woman, Carol, a few nights later. Merle was passed out in their tent, having gotten high as a kite earlier in the day (and hadn't that been a scene), and Ed was sleeping, as usual.

Carol and the girl were walking by as Daryl and a few of the others were sitting around the fire. They had been swapping stories, and the talk had turned to the things they had used to think strange, before the dead had begun to walk.

Carl had told them all about the time he thought he had seen a ghost, while Dale had mentioned hearing strange whisperings in his home when he and his wife had been newlyweds just moving into their own place. Glenn thought he had seen a UFO once, while out on a pizza delivery, but it had only turned out to be one of the big spotlights at the convention center downtown.

Daryl thought he had a story that could beat that.

"I saw a chupacabra once."

Carol and Sophia had just been passing as he spoke, and the girl tugged on her mother's hand, clearly wanting to stay and hear the story. Carol took a quick look around and, seeing that her husband wasn't lurking anywhere, she and Sophia took a seat by Lori.

Daryl gave the pair a small nod and went on with his story.

"I was on a hunting trip a few years back, and I'd been tracking this buck so long that the sun had gone down and it was full on night by the time I'd made any real progress. I'd finally got it in my sight, when I heard this weird howl."

The group was giving him their undivided attention. Most of them had never heard him speak so much. Sophia was looking at him with wide, excited eyes. Daryl was reminded of himself many years before, when he would beg his mother to tell him just one more story.

"Now, I been spending time in the woods half my life, and I had never heard a sound like that before. Haven't since. I backed off some, and kept myself behind a tree. The buck had his head up; he knew something was coming. There was a rustle from about thirty yards away, and then I saw it. First I thought it was just a coyote, but then it stepped into the light.

"It wasn't a coyote. It looked like a dog, but it had next to no hair, and I could see the ridges of its spine sticking up through its hide. It had glowin' red eyes, and fangs and claws as long as my finger," he said, holding up his hand and curling his first finger to show them.

"The buck turned tail and ran, and I expected the thing to chase it, but it saw me."

There was a gasp from the little girl, but when Daryl turned to look at her, she wasn't scared. She was looking at him like he was the most interesting thing she'd seen in a long time. Carol looked just as interested.

"What did you do?" the girl asked.

"I thought it was gonna come at me, so I raised my bow and waited. It let out this growl and tossed its head. Before I could do anything, it turned and walked away, giving me this look like I wasn't worth it. And I ain't never seen anything like it again."

"You're sure that was a chupacabra, Daryl?" Dale asked.

Daryl just shrugged.

"I know what I saw."

A rustling came from one of the tents, and Ed stepped out, bellowing for his wife and daughter.

Carol shot to her feet and took Sophia by the hand, not wanting to dally and give her husband another excuse to be angry with her. Daryl watched them go, not quite sure what the constricting feeling in his chest meant.

. . .

He had first watch of the night, so he went back to his tent to get his binoculars.

Merle had been passed out earlier, but he was awake now, staring at the canvas ceiling.

Daryl got the binoculars as quietly as he could, not wanting to provoke his brother. Anything could make Merle snap when he was like this.

Just as Daryl turned to go, Merle's hand shot out clutched at his wrist with a crushing grip.

"Where you goin' baby brother?"

Merle's breathing had gotten ragged, and his eyes were wide with panic.

"I've got first watch. Let go."

Daryl held back a grunt of pain when Merle twisted his wrist.

"Watch how you talk to me. You sure you ain't goin' nowhere?"

"No."

"You better not be. You said you wouldn't leave me behind."

And that, right there, was what kept Daryl around. Merle had gone from vicious to pleading in the blink of an eye. He couldn't be trusted with himself, so it was Daryl's job to keep an eye on him. He wouldn't leave his brother, especially not now, because the man was too unstable to really look after himself.

"I'm just gonna take watch at the RV. I'll be back in a few hours."

Merle's breathing slowed, and he let go of Daryl's wrist.

Daryl turned and left the tent without another word.

. . .

She came to speak to him while he was on watch. He heard a rustling from the direction of her tent, and watched as she cautiously stuck her head out. Carol looked his way, and he gave her a small nod from where he was sitting on top of the RV; all clear.

She walked over and climbed up the ladder, coming to sit next to him on the roof.

"Your girl okay being left alone?"

"She's with Lori and Carl for the night. Said she wanted to have a sleepover," Carol said, shrugging. "She's never gotten the chance before."

Daryl didn't know what to say.

"Thank you, for telling that story."

"Hell, it's not that big a deal."

"Sure it is. It's been a long time since Sophia's been that interested in anything. She and I used to read stories all the time, but the last few years…"

The last few years had been the worst so far. He could tell.

"Anyway, I know you couldn't possibly have known that, but thank you. Really."

"I've always liked a good story. Been a long time since I told one."

He cursed inwardly. He shouldn't be opening up to these people; Merle didn't even like Daryl talking to them.

But he let his eyes look into those of the woman next to him, and he felt his chest constrict again at the knowing look in her eyes. She gave a small, sad smile, said goodnight, and went back to her tent.

He didn't even know her, and here he was telling her things she had no real business knowing about. But her eyes were kind whenever she looked at him. He'd gotten so used to living without that, he wasn't sure how to handle it anymore.

Daryl watched her retreating form til it was out of sight and returned his eyes to the perimeter. Now wasn't the time to be thinking fool thoughts anyway.


	2. Guts

A/N: This is a short one. Just a little bit of a side story set during the second episode.

(Just a side note: I think Daryl is a good man, but he obviously doesn't really believe it of himself. This will make sense once you read a little further.)

I own nothing!

**Chapter Two: Guts**

Glenn and some of the others had gone scouting in the city, so camp had been pretty quiet all day. They had plenty of food for the moment, so Daryl was planning to stick around for the day and keep an eye on things. Merle had gone with the others into the city, leaving long before sunrise.

Daryl was relieved that his brother was sober enough to go along this time. He had thought the world ending would have forced Merle to clean up, but truth was he'd been worse than ever. Daryl knew his brother was spiraling out of control, but didn't know how to stop it. He could only hope that when the drugs ran out, Merle would settle down.

The way things were looking though, that wasn't likely. It was more probable his brother was going to end up dead, and not by some Walker. Daryl didn't know what he would do; Merle was the only one who had ever looked after him, the only one who had never cared that Daryl was worthless. Even if things weren't always so great between them, his brother was the only other person who had ever given two shits about him.

Even though the sun wasn't quite up, the rest of the camp was starting to stir as Daryl patrolled the perimeter. As he passed Lori's tent, he saw that there were still a few fireflies hanging around the edges of their camp. He stopped a moment to appreciate the view; it'd been a while since he'd seen them.

A rustling came from behind him, followed by small, cautious footsteps coming his way. He knew it was either Carl or Sophia, but he didn't want to look away from the lightning bugs. Weren't many other things worth looking at these days.

"You know what I think fireflies really are?"

It was the girl. She came to a stop next to him, and he looked down at her in surprise. Her voice had been soft, and she wasn't looking at him, but still: not many people were willing to just stroll up and shoot the shit with him. She took his silence as curiosity, and went on.

"I think they're stars that got stuck here on earth."

It was just about the last thing he had expected to hear, and it surprised him into indulging her before he could think to brush her off.

"Where'd you get that from?"

"A Disney movie," she said with a shrug. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "You mean you've never seen 'The Princess and the Frog?'"

"Uh…no."

"So there's this firefly, Ray, who's in love with the evening star. And her name is Evangeline, only he thinks she's a firefly, just like him. And even though he's just this simple guy, he knows that she loves him because he loves her with all his heart. And then he dies near the end of the movie, but he goes up to the sky to join her, so neither of them would be lonely anymore."

Looked like she was only shy when her daddy was around to put the scare in her. Daryl wasn't sure if he liked her better this way though. Kids made him nervous; he'd never really had to deal with them much as an adult.

"That sounds damn depressing."

His tone was harsh, but she laughed.

"It's sad, but the music is really good, and everyone learns a bit about love."

The fireflies had cleared by then, and they turned back to the camp. Carol was stoking the fire to make breakfast, and she beckoned to her daughter.

Sophia looked up at Daryl, and he was put off by the trust in her bright blue eyes.

"Please keep that a secret. Daddy doesn't know we went to the movies that day."

He nodded, completely at a loss as to what to say, and she ran off to join her mother.

. . .

Later on in the day, back at his tent, Daryl dug through his rucksack and pulled out the small book he had snuck in there. It was his mother's battered old copy of _Evangeline_. It was the only sentimental thing he'd brought with him, and he had made sure to keep it carefully hidden from Merle.

His mother had read him the story so many times he knew most of it by heart, anyway. Still, he felt a pang at the thought of giving it away. It was the last thing his mother had read to him. She'd been on her deathbed, but hadn't wanted anything more than to share a few more moments with her child, reading the story they both loved so much.

Daryl hadn't read it since anyway; and maybe Sophia would like it.

He searched around for a pen, and scrawled a quick message on the inside:

_This is where the firefly's story came from. _

Now he just had to figure out how to get it to her without anyone else noticing.

There was a commotion outside as he finished writing, and he put the book down and went to see what was going on.

In the moments that followed, in the blind rage that he fell into, hearing about Merle stuck up on that roof, he forgot all about the book and the girl.


	3. Tell it to the Frogs

A/N: This takes place right after Shane beats Ed up for hitting Carol. It's just a short introspective.

Many thanks to everyone who's taken the time to comment so far!

I don't own anything.

**Chapter Three: Tell it to the Frogs**

Carol patched Ed up as best she could. She fought against a grim smile at the thought that she had gotten pretty good at fixing up a bruised and battered face over the years.

Thank God Sophia had been in the RV, playing cards with Carl.

Ed grunted as she began to clean a particularly bad cut, and she flinched, but he didn't lash out. Shane had probably bought her a few days. When Ed recovered, though…

She didn't let herself finish the thought.

Placing a bandage over the cut, she sat back and said she had done her best.

Ed snorted, as well as one could with a smashed up nose, and roughly brushed her off without any thanks.

Carol decided to call that a win and stepped out of the tent.

Someone had to get dinner going, and the venison was going to take a while to cook.

She dug around for some canned veggies before going to look for a pan, all the while thinking about her husband.

Ed hadn't always been the way he was now.

When they had first met, he'd been so charming and doting. He took her out to nice places, and was always bringing her little gifts and trinkets.

Looking back, she knew she had been suckered in.

Things had been okay for a while after they had gotten married, but everything had changed when she had gotten pregnant for Sophia. Suddenly her loving husband was a possessive monster. He had always been careful not to hit her stomach, but her face…

Well, best not to dwell on those things. She had enough going on in the present.

As she got the pan going, her thoughts turned to the younger Dixon brother. He'd been the one to bring in the meat she was preparing. He brought most of their food, really. His brother often went out hunting with him, but she didn't think he contributed much, unless it was another bruise to add to Daryl's collection.

She'd noticed that something was off the moment she had met him. They hadn't really spoken until she'd thanked him for telling his chupacabra story, but she could tell what was going on.

Merle was a lot like Ed. He didn't want Daryl talking to anyone, and he didn't seem to care who heard Daryl try not to cry out when he hurt him. He was emotionally abusive too. Daryl carried himself and acted like he thought himself to be worthless. And he looked at Merle like he was the only other person in the world who might think otherwise.

She'd been watching, but knew there wasn't really anything she could do. She couldn't even protect herself, and she had a hard enough time deflecting Ed from turning his hate on Sophia.

For the thousandth time, she cursed herself for staying with him, Walkers or no.

She'd been leaving, taking her baby with her, when she saw the chaos in their neighborhood. She could have just left Ed in the house to fend for himself.

But she'd been a fool, thinking that maybe saving him would wake him up. That this new world they had been thrown into would force him to change.

It had, but it had only made him worse than ever.

Her cheeks burned with more than just the heat of the fire she was cooking over. She was so ashamed over the scene that had happened by the water's edge. This was her problem, and no one else's. The look of pity on Lori's face had made her feel sick. Lori, who had a brave and loving husband who had risked everything to look for her.

Carol was not going to be bitter.

She pushed thoughts of her own misery aside and found herself wondering about Daryl again.

He was brash, and had a nasty temper, but she could see the good in him.

Everyone else probably would too, if his horrible brother never came back.

A Daryl allowed to be his own man would be a good man, she knew.

Sophia had told her about the fireflies, and Carol felt a funny little flutter in her chest when she recalled that he had listened to her girl, instead of brushing her off, as he would have anyone else, she knew.

Hating herself just a little, she clutched the cross hanging around her neck and prayed that Merle Dixon never showed his face in camp again.


	4. Vatos

A/N: There will be a little of both Daryl and Carol in this one. Also, Daryl might have a potty mouth. Because he's Daryl and we love him that way.

This will be another shorter chapter, but the next one is going to be lengthier, I promise.

I own none of this!

**Chapter Four: Vatos**

Merle had taken the van.

Daryl knew it in his bones.

His brother was out there somewhere, and he wasn't trying to get back to Daryl. Instead, he had hitched the first ride he could find out of Atlanta, leaving Daryl behind.

Didn't the fool know that Daryl was looking for him?

That he'd almost shed blood for him?

He seethed as the group made their way back to camp.

This was all that fuckin' sheriff's fault. He hadn't had to handcuff Merle to that roof. There was always another way, another choice. Instead, his brother had been left to choose death by Walker or the possibility of cutting his hand off and bleeding out.

The hand that Daryl had so carefully wrapped felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as he carried it in his pocket.

It was the only piece of his family he had left.

He could have laughed at how ridiculous that was.

Daryl wasn't really sure what he was going to do next. There was really nothing keeping him with these people, especially after what had happened to Merle. But he also couldn't deny that there was more safety in numbers. He'd been on his own for a long time, but things were different now. He couldn't keep watch 24 hours a day.

But he had to keep looking for his brother.

Maybe he still could.

Glenn made enough trips into the city. Daryl would just have to start coming with him. Someone else was just going to have to learn how to hunt. He didn't have much inclination to feed the ungrateful bastards anymore, anyway.

And then his thoughts turned to Carol and Sophia.

They were probably happy Merle was gone. Daryl had seen the way they looked at his brother. It was much the same way they looked at Ed.

He felt sick.

They reached camp then, and there was no more time to think.

For just about the hundredth time that day, Daryl's thoughts were lost in the sweep of the chaos that had descended on their camp.

. . .

As Carol stared down at her husband's body later that night, she knew she shouldn't have indulged in such hateful thoughts earlier that day. She had wished another human being dead, and only hours later the swarm of Walkers had stormed through the camp like the plague they were.

And people had died. People she had found herself growing to like as she got to know them better.

Ed had died too, and for that she hated herself most of all, because she wasn't the least bit sad.

The only thing she felt when she got back to her tent after the chaos had ended was relief.

Sophia had tried to soothe her tears, and Carol had only cried harder when she told her baby that they were free.

Some Walker had done what she had never had the guts to do.

She hugged her daughter close and noticed that the girl didn't seem to be particularly sad either.

. . .

Daryl watched Carol hold her daughter close, and felt a terrible sense of relief.

If her bastard husband was dead, that was one less thing on his mind.

The sun was starting to come up, so he went to get his ax.

He had work to do.


	5. Wildfire

A/N: This chapter starts with the scene that got me shipping these two. Still one of the best scenes of the series so far.

Many thanks to everyone who's commented. You all make my day!

I own nothing.

**Chapter Five: Wildfire**

The last thing Daryl would ever had expected of Carol was for her to ask him for the ax.

His surprise only grew as she kept swinging it, til all that was left of her husband's head was some bloody pulp soaking into the Georgia dirt.

He watched as she took all the pain and misery of however many years she'd been suffering because of Ed and put it into every swing of that ax.

She cried as she did it, but he didn't think the tears were for Ed.

Daryl took a quick look around, just to make sure Sophia wasn't watching. She hadn't been too sad about her daddy, but Daryl didn't think this was something she should see either.

After what felt like an age, Carol stood back, her chest heaving with the effort to catch her breath.

She handed the ax back to Daryl and wiped the sweat off of her forehead.

He had no idea what to say as her eyes met his, but the look of defiance in hers, despite the fear and misery he also saw in them, made him like her better than ever.

She walked off and Daryl got back to work.

. . .

Carol was shaking as she walked away from Daryl.

She'd only meant to take one last look, to make sure Ed was really dead, that she was free.

But as she looked down on his corpse, she'd felt this rage take hold of her.

She had never been so angry in her entire life.

Before she could think about it, she asked Daryl for the ax.

Swinging it back, she thought of the man Ed had been when they first met: so charming and attentive. It had seemed like he wanted nothing more than to spend all his time with her.

Now she knew he was really just a possessive, suspicious bastard.

And she brought the ax down and into his face.

Some part of her was horrified that she was doing this, but a much larger part of her felt a sick sense of visceral satisfaction at the sickening sound the blade made as it split into his flesh.

Carol brought the ax up, and down, and up and down again until there was nothing more going through her mind than memories of abuse and pain, and punishing the person who had done this to her.

_Thwack_.

That one was for the first time he had hit her. It had been so bad that the woman at the supermarket had asked what on earth had happened to her face.

_Thwack._

For what had become of her dreams, of her life.

_Thwack_.

For her hair. Son of a bitch had forced her to cut it; made it more difficult for him to grab her.

_Thwack_.

For her baby, Sophia. For making that little girl live a life of fear and misery, when all she should have been concerned with were dolls and what game she would play next.

The rage really took her then, and she lost all coherent thought as she brought the ax down again and again.

It wasn't until she had to stop, so that she could breathe, and rest her aching arms, that she remembered that Daryl was right there, watching her.

Well, so what?

After everything she'd been through, and had put her little girl through, she needed this moment. Hell, she deserved this moment.

Even if this side of her was currently scaring the hell out of her.

Suddenly, the fury just went out of her.

This wasn't like her. She didn't regret what she'd just done, but she knew it wasn't her.

It was time to move on. Her tormentor was dead; she had to take better care of her girl now.

Carol handed the ax back to Daryl, her eyes meeting his and silently daring him to say something.

The last thing she'd ever have expected to see in his eyes was compassion…and was that pride? Or admiration?

There wasn't anything to say, so she turned and walked away, her hands trembling and her heart thundering inside her chest.

. . .

Later that day, Carol was with Sophia in their tent, packing up their things. The group would be starting their trek to the CDC shortly, since they couldn't afford to waste any time. If there was anything that could be done for poor Jim, they would have to get going soon.

Carol had discussed it with Sophia, and they had both decided to get rid of their current tent. Dale had offered them a place in the RV, but Carol only planned to stay there until she could get a new tent. She was starting over with her daughter, and she wanted a place of their own, even if it was one with a canvas roof.

She held back a hiss of pain as she zipped up the duffel bag that held their clothes. Her hands were paying the price for what she had done earlier. She had split the skin in a few places, and her palms were red and raw. She was out of Neosporin though.

"Sophia honey, can you check with Lori to see if she has any antibacterial ointment?" she asked, holding up her hands.

Sophia made a sympathetic face.

"You hit the gravel pretty hard, huh momma?"

Carol forced herself to smile.

"Yeah. That's what I get for not watching where I'm stepping."

Sophia went out in search of the ointment and Carol started to pack up their few toiletries into another small bag.

A noise at the tent's entrance startled her, and she looked up to see Daryl standing there.

Her cheeks flushed at the memory of their last encounter, but she made herself meet his eyes.

"Can I come in?" he asked in his soft, gruff voice.

She nodded and he came to sit by where she was. She noticed a small jar in his hands.

"I figured you might need this," he explained, opening the lid.

There was a strong medicinal smell coming from the container.

Carol reached her hand out to take it from him, but he surprised her when he took up some of the concoction with his own hands and waited for her to open hers. She pretended not to notice the small flush that was suffusing his cheeks.

Daryl's hands felt rough on hers, but he was gentle as he rubbed the ointment into her palms.

"I've been using this stuff my whole life. It's not exactly Neosporin, but it gets the job done."

Carol couldn't remember the last time anyone had been so gentle with her. There wasn't anything overtly affectionate about what he was doing, but she relished the moment anyway.

"Merle used to do this for me, when I was just learning how to use a bow. Was just about the only time he slowed down and sat with me."

His voice, combined with the feeling of his hands on hers, was more than enough to lull her into a complacent daze, but she forced herself to wake up a bit and speak.

"I am sorry about your brother Daryl. It must be hard not having any other family."

He looked up into her eyes, and she knew he was going to say something, but just then Sophia returned.

"Mommy, Lori says sorry but she's all out of…"

She smiled as Daryl's head turned to her.

"Hi Mr. Dixon," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

He got up and rubbed what was left of the ointment on his fingers into his own hands.

"You should put that on again before you bed down tonight, keep the blistering down," he said, looking at Carol.

He turned to face Sophia.

"It's just Daryl," he muttered, before going out of their tent.

. . .

As Daryl loaded the last of his things into the truck, he caught a whiff of the ointment he had rubbed into his fingers earlier.

He could feel his face burn, but couldn't help himself as he allowed himself to remember how soft and warm her hands had been in his.

He was a damn fool.

. . .

Things took on a more solemn note, if that were actually possible, after Jim asked them to leave him.

Daryl was all for putting the man out of his misery, because keeping him was a danger to the camp, and turning him loose was a danger to someone else. But Grimes insisted that they had to respect Jim's wishes.

He was sure whatever poor bastard crossed Jim's path wouldn't be thanking them any time soon, but he held his tongue. Daryl needed to keep to himself if these people were going to let him stick around while he looked for his brother.

And he was determined to find Merle.

They had another day before they got to the CDC. It wasn't actually that far from the city, but the state of the roads made travelling slow, and they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves, so they were taking their time now. And Daryl intended to use as much of that time as he could to keep an eye out for his brother.

When he wasn't looking for game, he was keeping watch or going through the cars they came across to see if they could find anything useful.

He was digging through the back of a minivan when he found it:

It was a little rag doll, squashed in between a couple of suitcases.

Daryl tugged it out, thinking of Sophia. He remembered suddenly that he still hadn't given her the book. He'd been so distracted the last few days that he'd completely forgotten about the gift.

Sophia and Carol were the only ones who had apologized for what had happened with Merle. Not that it was their fault; it was just that they had some idea of how it was for him, being on their own too. They were just about the only people he could stand to be around anymore.

He tucked the doll into his belt and kept digging.

. . .

They were both already asleep in the RV when he went to take up his watch.

Daryl looked up at Dale, and signaled to him that he'd just be a minute. Dale gave him a knowing look, which Daryl pretended not to notice. Old man knew more than what was good for him.

He went quietly into the RV and headed to the back, where Carol and Sophia were sharing a bunk. He took the doll and his copy of _Evangeline_ and set them on the small nightstand by the bed.

That funny feeling was back in his chest when he noticed that the jar he'd given Carol for her hands was there too, and that he could smell the ointment faintly in the air.


	6. TS19

A/N: This was such a dark episode for the group that I'm going to try to fluff it up a bit. The CDC disaster is still going to happen, but Daryl and Carol are going to get a bit of a break before that happens.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and commenting.

I own nothing, sadly.

**Chapter Six: TS-19**

God, he had missed whiskey.

Daryl took another swig from the bottle he had been nursing all night and shuffled along down the hall.

Everyone else had been happy as pigs in shit when they'd gotten into the CDC, but Daryl didn't like it one bit. That Jenner guy was creepy as fuck, and Daryl didn't trust him.

And as long as he was stuck behind these walls, he couldn't look for Merle.

Not that anyone else gave a shit about that.

So he'd decided to get drunk as a skunk, because it'd been a long time since he'd had the luxury to do so. Being half in the bag was no way to deal with Walkers, so he hadn't touched the stuff in a long time.

He hadn't been able to sleep when everyone had bedded down for the night, so he'd been wandering the halls.

Looked like no one else was having trouble sleeping, but Daryl still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong about the whole place. It'd been just a little too easy for them to get in.

Just up ahead, there was some light spilling into the hall from an open doorway.

He heard a couple of soft voices too.

"I wonder where he found it, mama?"

"Probably from a car somewhere along the road. It was awful nice of him, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

Daryl's stomach swooped, and not just because of the drink. Carol and Sophia were talking about him. He felt a little ashamed of himself, but decided to listen for just a bit longer.

"I think this book was his though."

"What makes you say that, honey?"

"He wrote on the inside, see?"

"It must be, then. Looks like he knows the story pretty well to have written that."

There was another moment of quiet and then Sophia's soft voice came again.

"Is Daryl mad at us too?"

"He's upset, baby. Everyone's moving on and he's just trying to find his brother. We may not like Merle very much, but he's the only family Daryl's got left. You and I would be just as upset if we were trying to find one another and no one else seemed to want to."

Daryl had been taking another drink as she spoke, and he spluttered at her words. The alcohol burned his throat and he started to cough.

There were a couple of startled noises from inside the room, and then Carol poked her head out.

"Daryl? Are you alright?"

"I'm just fine," he grunted, moving to turn back.

Sophia came out and stopped him.

"Will you please come in for a second, Daryl? I want to talk to you."

He looked at Carol, eyebrow raised in question. She nodded, looking just as surprised as he did at Sophia's invitation.

The girl went back into the room and they both followed. Carol and Sophia had set themselves up in a small suite. It was actually pretty nice, with a bunk and a small sitting area.

Sophia gestured for him to sit on the tiny sofa and went over to the bed, where she retrieved the doll and the copy of _Evangeline_ that he had given her.

She took a seat next to him and looked up at him very seriously.

"Could you put the bottle down please? I don't like that stuff."

"Yes ma'am," he said, obliging her.

Carol had to hide a smile behind her hand.

Sophia held the book out in her tiny hands.

"I just want to make sure that you really want me to have this. It seems like it's important to you, if it's something you saved."

This kid was dangerous. One little speech from her and all the anger he'd been wallowing in since they'd arrived started to melt away.

He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes.

"It's yours, now. I promise. I figured you'd wanna know where that story you told me comes from."

She nodded, a small smile playing across her lips.

"Will you read it to me? You tell good stories, so you should be good at this too."

Carol went to protest on his behalf, but he already had his hand out for the book.

He opened to the first page, and Sophia sat a little closer to him, so that she could see the pictures, but not so close that he was uncomfortable.

He felt awkward, but was still pleased. It'd been a long time since he'd sat like this and shared this particular story with someone. His voice was rough but sure as he began to read.

"This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean speaks, and in accents disconsolate, answers the wail of the forest…"

. . .

Daryl read most of the poem to Sophia, but her eyes started to drift shut about halfway through, and she was deeply asleep by the time he reached the part where time passed and Evangeline got old while searching for her husband.

Carol's eyes had seldom left his face the entire time.

She'd been unwilling to look away from the unexpected gentleness she saw in his face as he read to Sophia.

Ed had never looked at his daughter like that. He'd never looked at her in any way that hadn't made Carol sick at heart to think about.

But she didn't want to dwell on that and ruin the moment.

Carol hadn't had a nice evening like this since she'd been very young. And she couldn't remember the last time Sophia had had someone read a book to her. Not since she'd been a toddler and Ed had still been working nights at the mill.

Even more surprising to her was that, as the story progressed, Sophia snuggled a little closer to his side. Her eyes never left the pages of the book, and she clutched the doll he had given her the whole time. She hadn't let go in her sleep, either.

Daryl's voice trailed off quietly and he closed the book.

He looked at Carol for the first time in a while, and gestured to Sophia, silently asking for permission.

Carol nodded and Daryl scooped the girl up into his arms as Carol pulled the sheets back on the bed. He put her down gently and Carol tucked her in, smoothing her daughter's hair back from her forehead.

She smiled at Daryl and they went back over to the sofa. She didn't want him to leave, and his body language said that he very much wanted to stay. At least for a little longer.

"Thank you Daryl," she said, taking a seat next to him.

He sat a little closer to her than she had expected him to. The whiskey had certainly made him a lot less skittish.

"It was…fun," he said, looking surprised. In his defense, the word was pretty much foreign to both of them.

"My mom used to read that to me when I was small. Been many a year since I sat down with that book."

He took up the bottle he had discarded earlier, and took another sip before offering it to Carol.

She took it without hesitation, and drank just a little, but she still coughed like she'd downed the stuff.

Daryl let out an amused huff and took the bottle back.

"Takes some getting used to, I guess," Carol said, her voice slightly scratchy.

"So what happened to her? Your mother?"

He let out a small sigh.

"She took sick and died when I was still just a boy. She'd been raising me on her own. Dad took off long before I was born, and Merle was in juvie for most of my life. Didn't have any other kin, so I was on my own most of the time. Not that Merle really looked after me when he came home, either. I been taking care of him a long ass time."

"He… was he like Ed?" she whispered.

The look on his face confirmed all of her previous suspicions.

Neither of them had to say anything else, unless it was to change the subject.

"How are your hands?"

"Much better, thank you. That stuff you gave me really works."

He nodded, still looking at her.

He was chewing his lip now, a habit of his that she had come to notice.

She found herself wondering what his lips would feel like on hers, and she averted her eyes, embarrassed. What a silly thing to be thinking, in the situation they were in.

"Hey."

Carol turned to face him again, and was startling to find that their faces were so close.

"You're gonna be just fine, you know. You and Sophia, you can start over now. He can't hurt either of you anymore."

"Will you? Start over, that is?"

No answer.

She plucked up her courage.

"You could start over with us."

His eyes went wide, and she realized just how her words had sounded.

"I didn't mean…I just meant to say that, you've been so kind, and done so much right by the two of us, and Sophia really likes you…"

Her words were cut off when he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was hesitant, but his mouth felt so good against hers, and she leaned into him. He tasted like whiskey, and she parted her lips, eager to taste more. She let her palms rest flat on his chest and made a contended noise.

Daryl seemed to snap out of it when she did that, and he pulled back.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, really."

He shook his head and stood.

"I should go."

"Daryl…'

But it was too late; he was already out the door.

. . .

Daryl drank himself into a complete stupor when he got back to his quarters.

He collapsed onto his bed roll, his head swimming with thoughts of Carol.

How she had felt so nice pressed up against him, how blue her eyes were, how soft her lips had been, and how her nightgown had ridden up her thighs just a bit…

He'd wanted to run his hands up that creamy white skin so bad…

He passed out after that, and when he woke up the next morning, feeling like someone had taken an ax to his head, he didn't remember a damn thing that had happened the night before.

. . .

Carol couldn't stop the flush that came to her face when Daryl finally joined them all for breakfast the next morning.

She hadn't slept much last night. Her thoughts had been filled with him, and how his hands had felt on her…

She shook her head, telling herself to stop being silly. He had left so abruptly, it was obvious he didn't really want to start anything.

Still, he took a seat next to Sophia, and she poured him a little bit of cereal.

"Thank you for reading to me last night, Daryl."

He looked at Sophia, a confused frown on his face.

"Huh?"

"You don't remember?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Of course I do. You're welcome."

Carol's eyes met his over the top of Sophia's head, and she knew he must have drunk himself into a stupor after he left her last night. He didn't remember anything.

She couldn't decide if she was relieved or terribly disappointed.

. . .

Daryl forgot about his hangover soon enough when the power went out.

Fuck.

He knew there had been something off the whole time.

And now this jackass scientist was telling them they were all going to die.

He had come too far to die now, or like this. He wasn't going out like this; when he died, he wanted to do it either having survived this damn plague, or in a blaze of glory, taking as many Walkers with him as he could.

As he and Rick desperately tried to black the glass that was their last barrier to freedom, Daryl could hear Sophia crying.

That little girl and her mama weren't going to die either.

He wasn't really sure what had happened the night before, but they were his girls now, and he had to do right by them. He hadn't been able to with Merle, but damn it if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to help Carol and Sophia make it.

When Carol pulled that grenade out of her purse, Daryl didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

And as they ran away from the Walkers they'd taken down on the way out, and as the building burned behind them, Daryl knew Carol and Sophia were right behind him the whole way.


	7. What Lies Ahead

A/N: According to "What Lies Ahead," the group is on the road for a couple of days after the CDC, but for the purposes of indulgence, I'm going to stretch that out a bit. There's going to be a little more fluff, because we all know the sad stuff begins here.

This chapter is also the longest so far!

Thank you to everyone I've heard from, and those I haven't but who have read this so far. I'm so glad that people have been enjoying this.

I own nothing.

**Chapter Seven: What Lies Ahead**

They drove as far as they could from the CDC—the noise of the explosion was probably going to attract every Walker in the area—but decided to call it far enough by the time they had doubled back to the outskirts of the city.

Everyone was just too damned tired.

It wasn't even noon, but they'd been through such an ordeal that morning that traveling just wasn't going to be an option.

Daryl went ahead on Merle's bike, and found them a good spot near an overpass, on the empty side of the freeway. He hadn't spotted very many Walkers in the area during his trips to the city, so the group should be relatively safe for the time being.

Dale and Rick formed a circle around one end of the overpass with the RV and the Jeep, so that everyone could set up their tents on the inside. Daryl couldn't help but think of pioneers circling the wagons.

He left the bike by Rick's Jeep and went over to where Carol was helping Glenn set up his tent.

"Aren't you gonna fix yours up?"

"Dale's offered to let Sophia and I stay in the RV for now. We uh…couldn't salvage the old tent, so we're looking for a new one."

He nodded his understanding and went to set up in his own spot, just on the outer side of the half circle they had formed.

Sophia came over just as he was getting the tent poles into the ground.

"Can I help?"

He nodded and she beamed at him like he'd just said Christmas was coming early that year. Kid was weird. But he liked her well enough.

"Grab that end there and help me lift this then."

They worked in silence, but he found he didn't mind her company so much. She was quiet, and turned out to be a capable helper. When she did speak, it wasn't to spout nonsense, and he ended up actually enjoying himself when she did begin to spin a yarn.

She told him how she thought _Evangeline_ was going to end, and thanked him again for the gift.

"Hell, it wasn't that big a deal."

"Yes it was. Kindness is always a big deal."

Well.

How was he supposed to argue with that?

"Will you finish the story with me? That is, if you don't mind?"

"That's fine. Let's just see about that after everyone's settled in though."

She gave him another big smile, agreed, and went off to join her mother.

. . .

Rick called them all together about an hour later so that they could discuss what their next move would be.

Not surprisingly, Shane was quick to put his two cents in.

"We should find someplace that's been abandoned this time. That way no one tries to blow us up in a confused fit of 'mercy.'"

Several voices had chimed in, to defend Rick's taking them to the CDC, since he couldn't possibly have known what was going to happen there.

"Shane has a point," Dale said, surprising them all so much they stopped talking immediately. "We need someplace stable, but it's probably best if it isn't already occupied. There's a good chance that scenario wouldn't end well."

"We need something defensible too, and preferably a place with security similar to what the CDC had," T-Dog added.

Silence reigned for several minutes, as everyone thought of some place that would have a chance of fitting their needs.

And then Daryl thought of it.

"Fort Benning."

Rick nodded at him, and invited him to go on.

"The place is huge, so we'd have to be smart about it, but there's more than enough fencing and walls to keep Walkers out, and we wouldn't have too much trouble defending the spot, if it came to it."

"There could be a chance the military's holed up there, too," Rick mused.

His eyes met Daryl's, and they both knew they'd all have to tread very carefully if that was the case. They'd all seen what had happened to the troops who had been stationed in Atlanta.

"Whole damn place could be flooded with Walkers too," Shane said.

"If that's how it is, we can work our way in, one bit at a time. We've got more than enough people to take this slow and smart," Lori said.

"That's right," Rick said, putting an end to the argument before it could really get started. He turned to Daryl. "Looks to me like that might be a good option."

Facing the rest of the group again, he asked their opinions.

In the end, everyone agreed that, though it was a long trip, it was a good idea and worth a try. They could keep an eye out for something along the way, but they all knew that they needed something new to work towards, especially after the disaster they had just faced at their previous 'safe haven.'

. . .

Carol was surprised to find Daryl in the RV when she went in to check on Andrea just as it was growing dark. The younger woman was sleeping, again, on a small fold out bed in the front, so Carol decided not to disturb her.

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she turned and saw Daryl, dozing lightly in his seat at the kitchenette, an open book on the table before him. He must not have realized how tired he really was. She held back a small laugh at the sight of him, his mouth hanging slightly open and his head tilted at an awkward angle.

She went to the small bedroom in the back and got a blanket for him.

His eyes snapped open just as she was draping it over him.

"I'm sorry Daryl. Didn't mean to disturb you. I was just trying to cover you up."

"S'okay. I shouldn't have been napping anyway," he said, getting up and handing the blanket back to her. "There's a lot of planning left to do."

"Actually, Rick's got it all mapped out, thanks to Dale. He says we should be good to leave in the morning."

"Looks like I got nothin' to do then," he shrugged, resuming his seat.

She shifted nervously. Now that she had him nearby, she figured she may as well just ask him.

"I was actually wondering if you could do me a favor," she said, feeling bad for asking anything of him, when he'd been so kind to her and Sophia already.

"What do you need?"

"Dale's taking first watch tonight, and I said I'd keep it with him. He says his eyesight's not quite what it used to be, and I want to start doing more around here, so…"

He was looking at her with some confusion, obviously wondering where she was going with this.

"Do you think you could watch Sophia while I'm up there? I hate to bother you, but she's taken quite a shine to you, and if you don't want to I completely understand…"

"Carol. Relax. It's fine."

"Really?"

He shrugged.

"She wants me to finish reading _Evangeline_ to her anyway, and I'm pretty sure I got second watch, so it's no big deal."

She smiled at him and patted his arm.

"Thank you, Daryl."

. . .

Sophia had been way too excited when she found out he was going to be sitting up with her for a little while.

Daryl wasn't used to other people actually enjoying his company. And vice versa. But, old habits be damned, he was actually looking forward to spending some more time with her. She and her mama weren't so bad as other folks.

She wasn't ready to turn in just yet, so she came to sit with him in the kitchenette and he decided there was just enough moonlight coming in for him to read some more to her.

When he got to the end, and Gabriel died in Evangeline's arms, he was startled to see that there were tears in her eyes.

Having absolutely no idea what to do, he just looked at her.

But, she took a deep breath and told him she was okay.

"It was just really beautiful. I'm glad they found each other, in the end."

"You like it then?"

"I loved it! Thank you so much."

"Any time, kid."

"Have you always liked stories?"

"Yeah. Besides this one, my ma used to tell me cowboy stories all the time. She was pretty fond of legends too."

"My mom is too. We never had much chance to swap stories, before, but we used to talk about the Skunk Ape sometimes."

Daryl had to choke back a laugh.

"Skunk Ape, huh? You think he's real?"

She smiled wryly up at him.

"Well, the dead started walkin' around, so I think Skunk Ape's got a real chance."

This time Daryl did laugh, and Sophia with him.

. . .

Carol tried not to get too lost in her thoughts as she sat up on the roof with Dale.

All day, she'd been forcing herself not to wonder whether or not Daryl actually remembered what had transpired between them at the CDC. He hadn't been actually drunk when he was with her, just loosened up. Maybe he had gotten blitzed after he'd left, and forgotten the incident?

His behavior at breakfast had certainly suggested as much, but since then he seemed to have either remembered some of it or put the pieces together.

She wasn't sure how she felt about either of those options. She'd certainly enjoyed herself; after all she had returned his kiss. But she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was embarrassed by it somehow. He'd made no move to get close to her throughout the day, and he was just as reserved as ever.

Of course, their moving on was probably forcing him to wonder about his brother.

Carol cursed herself for wondering about some silly kiss when he was most likely wrestling with the decision to give up on the search for Merle.

Forcing her thoughts to take a more rational turn, she returned her eyes to the perimeter of their camp.

. . .

Daryl had put Sophia to bed, and was sitting up again in the kitchenette.

He had put the pieces together of what must have happened the night before. He'd come across Sophia and Carol at the CDC, and obviously he'd spent some time reading to Sophia.

But he also thought something had happened with Carol.

She'd been looking at him strangely all day.

Vaguely, he thought he remembered dreaming of her the night before, but the thought brought a flush to his cheeks and he forced it away. She wasn't interested in him like that, but the whiskey must have made him fool enough to think about it.

Feeling ashamed of himself, he forced his thoughts once more to Merle.

If he was going on with the others to Fort Benning, he was going to have to stop looking for his brother. They were going to travel more than a hundred miles, and it wasn't likely he was going to come across the other man.

Daryl had to either accept the fact that his brother was probably dead, or that he simply didn't want to come back to Daryl. After all, if he had, he could very easily have made his way back to camp after he had taken their van.

Merle had given up on him, so he was just going to have to make himself give up on Merle.

Daryl felt sick about it.

He was roused from his thoughts by soft footsteps approaching the RV. He recognized Carol's step, and someone else was with her. It wouldn't be Dale; he was bunking with T-Dog for the night, since Andrea seemed to want some space away from him for the time being.

Carol came up into the camper, followed by Glenn, who smiled at Daryl.

"I've got next watch Daryl. Rick asked us to give you the night off, since you're gonna be scouting tomorrow."

"I'm fine."

Glenn just shrugged.

"You had a long day, and the rest of us have rested enough so we can keep watch."

"Suit yourself."

Glenn didn't seem to mind that that was all the thanks he was going to get. He smiled at Daryl again and went out to climb up onto the roof, where he'd be keeping his watch with Shane.

Carol went in to check on Sophia and came back, taking the seat across from Daryl.

"How was she?"

"Just fine. We finished _Evangeline_, talked some, and then she turned in."

"Good. Thank you again, Daryl. I really appreciate it."

He nodded, and then smirked at her.

"So it looks like there's a whole other side to you I got to get to know now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there was the grenade this morning," he said, smiling fully at her for the first time. "Hell, if we weren't all about to die I mighta proposed on the spot."

That startled a small laugh out of Carol.

"And Sophia tells me we might be in some danger of a Skunk Ape attack."

"Oh God, she told you about that?"

Carol shook her head.

"I saw him. I was only a little girl, but I know what I saw."

"Hey, you'll get no argument here. I saw a chupacabra. So maybe they're cousins."

"Think of what those Thanksgiving dinners must be like," she said, laughing softly.

They stayed up just a while longer, before bedding down for the night. Carol went to curl up next to Sophia, and Daryl collapsed into the other bunk.

If either was nervous about the sleeping arrangements, neither one of them said anything.

. . .

The following days all passed in much the same way.

They would all get up at first light, pack up, and hit the road.

Daryl would scout ahead, making sure the coast was clear, and that the RV would be able to go along without running into any choking points.

They'd go for as long as they could, and would start to look for a spot to make camp a few hours before dark.

There was more than enough food to last them a couple weeks, so thankfully Daryl didn't have to go off hunting. He and the others just had to make sure they kept up a secure perimeter.

If there were any vehicles near camp, they made sure there were no Walkers inside before going through them and keeping anything useful. Not much was passed up, because they all knew they could no longer count on there being a 'next time,' should they ever need something.

It was on one of these little scouting trips that it happened.

Daryl was up just ahead of Carol and Sophia when the girl went up to join him, after getting the okay from her mother. She and Daryl walked up to a small sedan, whose backseat was piled high with luggage.

There was still a body in the car, but Daryl watched it carefully for a few moments, and it wasn't moving. He opened the driver's side door to look for a lever to open the trunk, just in case there was anything they could use in there.

As he walked to the back of the car, he never noticed the thing in the driver's seat turn its head.

Sophia was just a step behind him, but the Walker's arm shot out and grabbed hers before she could get away.

The next few seconds were some of the most nerve-wracking of Daryl's entire life.

She let out a high pitched scream, and he turned back around just as the thing tried to pull her into the car.

Daryl lunged at Sophia, and tugged her back, bringing his crossbow up and shooting the thing in the car right between the eyes.

Sophia threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.

He wasn't even thinking about how uncomfortable such close contact usually was for him as she ran his hands over her arms and tilted her chin up.

"Did it get you? Sophia, did it get you?"

"No," she whimpered, her face disappearing once more into the crook of his neck.

Carol had run over at the sound, and was rubbing soothing circles into her daughter's back. The others came running as well, but at Carol's signal that Sophia was okay, they gave the trio some space.

Daryl had been unsure how to react, but he tentatively brought his arms around Sophia and gave her a small, squeezing hug. Instead of helping her, she only tightened her hold on him.

Carol's eyes met his fearfully, and he shook his head.

No bites; her baby was fine.

Now it was Carol's turn to lay her head upon his shoulder.

"Thank you," she breathed.

He thought he felt some of her tears soaking into his shirt, but didn't say anything.

Thankfully, she pulled her head up, because Daryl wasn't sure how much more closeness he could take.

Carol seemed to sense his discomfort, as she coaxed Sophia to let go of Daryl, so that she could take her back to camp.

At last, the girl let him go and allowed her mother to scoop her up.

Daryl followed them back to the RV, his eyes nervously scanning the area the whole way.

. . .

He kept watch for a good portion of the night, and didn't get the chance to be near Sophia again until breakfast the next morning.

She was bringing in a stack of plates into the RV so Carol could wash and dry them before they left.

Pausing by where Daryl was seated, she gave him a small kiss on the cheek and scampered off.

His skin tingled where she had kissed him for the rest of that day.

. . .

It was several days later when they came upon the mess with the overturned tractor trailer.

Daryl had been feeling off the whole morning, and it had made him moody enough that most of the others were content not to have to deal with him as he went on up ahead.

At that moment, he was glad he only had T-Dog to deal with.

They'd all been getting so tired on their journey, that nerves were starting to wear thin. T-Dog was quiet, and neither he nor Daryl had all that much to say to one another to begin with, so they worked in silence. And Daryl was grateful.

He didn't know how to deal with everything that was happening to him. He'd gone from having no one, to looking after his brother, to losing his brother and having no one again, and then to having this small, ready-made family, just waiting for him to accept them.

And he felt sick. Carol and her daughter were too good for the likes of him. He didn't deserve the way Carol would look at him, and the easy affection and friendship of her daughter. Didn't they know he was just a no good Dixon?

But they meant something to him, all the same. Somehow along the way, they were becoming his kin.

When he thought of Carol, his heart sped up and his chest burned with a fierce protectiveness. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had affected him this way, and she'd only ever looked at him and touched his hand.

He hated not knowing what it all meant, and he was grateful for the small respite.

Then the herd of Walkers came upon them.

By the time Daryl and T-Dog made their way back to the others, and he found out what had happened, he was very sorry that he had ever been grateful to be away.

When Rick came back without Sophia, he just hoped he could find her in time, so that he would never be too far away to protect either of them ever again.

. . .

Sophia waited as long as she could for Rick to come back, before deciding that she would have to do what he said and head back to the highway.

Just as she made it up the riverbank, she heard footsteps very close by.

Thinking it was Rick, she turned and rushed to him gratefully.

By the time she realized it was a dead guy in a suit, his teeth had bitten into her neck and it was too late.

. . .

Daryl thanked a god he didn't really believe in when all he pulled out of that Walker's stomach was a wood chuck.

As he and Rick got back to their feet to resume their search, he took a closer look at the flesh that Rick had pulled out from between the Walker's teeth.

It didn't look like the skin of any animal he had ever come across. It was human flesh, plain and simple.

He told himself that it could be anybody's, and picked up the trail again.

The Walker had not gotten Sophia.

That was just the way things had to be.

. . .

The fever hit her fast, but she kept on walking.

If she went back to camp, she would only be putting her new family in danger.

And she knew someone would have to put her down when it was all over.

Sophia kept thinking, over and over, that maybe if she and her mother had stuck by Daryl, as they had all along, he would have stopped those two Walkers.

She was so afraid.

Her thoughts became fuzzier as the afternoon passed on.

She wanted her mama.

. . .

Daryl couldn't stay by Carol after he came back from the woods empty handed.

He felt like shit, and just didn't know what to say.

More than anything, he wished he had stayed behind with Sophia and Carol, just like he had been doing every other day so far.

Maybe none of this would have happened.

Carol came into the RV just as full dark was coming on.

She looked startled to see him sitting on the edge of her bunk.

He was holding _Evangeline_, and staring off into space, but as she came upon him he cast his eyes down in shame.

"Carol, I'm sorry."

"Daryl, don't. Please."

She sat next to him, heaving a sigh.

"I… I'm the one who's sorry. It's not your fault. I should have gotten under that car with her. She never would have come out if I had been there to hold her back."

He knew she wasn't to blame either. She'd always kept such a careful eye on her daughter. She wasn't responsible for the actions of the dead. Daryl was unable to extend the same understanding to himself, however.

"We're going back out at first light."

"I'm going with you."

. . .

Everyone went, except Dale, who stayed behind to work on the RV.

Daryl picked up the trail again, and they were off.

. . .

She had collapsed by the stream bed the night before.

When she opened her eyes just after dawn the next morning, they were a murky, sick white.

She stood, and the doll she had been clutching so close to her chest yesterday, when she had still been Sophia, fell from limp little fingers.

It fell down with a small splash into the stream and washed away.

The girl staggered forward, unknowing, uncaring, and following the scent of fresh meat on the air.

. . .

Daryl watched as Carol said a prayer for her little girl.

His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest when they heard the peal of church bells. Admiration for the smart little girl had followed soon after, only to be crushed and swept away by what they found instead.

All this damn praying was a waste of time, but Carol seemed to need it.

For the moment, he held his tongue.

. . .

A man.

He'd been the one she'd been smelling all day.

She lunged at him, and then there was a pressure around her neck.

He danced along before her, always out of her reach, but smelling so good.

Then there was darkness and the stench of others.

No more smell of food, and only the sound of the others' moans.

. . .

The day had been a bust.

But Daryl wasn't about to give up hope.

He kept thinking of the time he had been lost, so many years before.

If he had managed to survive, so could Sophia. And she had had a much better crash course in survival than he had. After all, he had been teaching her.

Daryl allowed himself a small bit of hope, and did his best to reassure Carol.

She could count on him; he knew what he was doing.

And then a shot rang out through the woods.


	8. Bloodletting

A/N: This, as well as the next chapter, is going to be a short one. But "Cherokee Rose" is coming up, so rest assured that one will be lengthier.

Thanks again to everyone who's been reading this!

I own nothing.

**Chapter Eight: Bloodletting**

Carol had wanted to turn back when they heard the gunshot, but Daryl had urged them on, knowing that it would be dark soon enough.

He had looked on as Lori made her speech, and he knew her to be right; Rick had done what he thought was best.

But Daryl knew he wouldn't have hesitated, at least.

He never had before, and he certainly hadn't when Sophia had been in danger the other day.

Lori's words did the trick, though, and Carol seemed to come back to herself some. She was still in a bad way, but more herself.

None of them had a good feeling about that gunshot, but they pressed on.

. . .

None of them knew what to think when the girl came for Lori.

First Sophia, and now Carl.

Daryl knew it wasn't his fault either, but he found himself wishing that Carl had stuck by his mother. Daryl could have kept an eye on him too.

But he had meant what he said earlier.

Wishin' and prayin' didn't get anything done.

. . .

In the end, he helped Carol make up some dinner for them.

Andrea was still recovering from her near miss with the Walker by the fallen trees. She'd gone up to sit on the roof of the RV and hadn't been seen since.

T-Dog had taken his antibiotics and gone on to the Greene property with Lori, Shane, and the girl on the horse. He needed seeing to, and there wasn't anything else to be done for him on the highway.

Dale was working on the RV with Glenn.

So it was up to Daryl to stay by Carol.

Which he would have done anyway.

She had started getting a small dinner together as soon as they got back, clearly needing to occupy her mind with something else other than her daughter.

They had a small fire going on the camp stove, and he had helped her put together a stew with some canned stuff they had picked up along the way.

"Hope you like beef stew."

"Yeah. I'm not fussy, but it's always been my favorite."

"Sophia's always loved it too."

She sniffled and turned her face away from him.

"I'm sorry. I know it's stupid, but I thought, maybe, if she came near enough, and she caught a whiff…" she shrugged sadly. "It's dumb, I know."

"It's not stupid that you want her back so bad."

He reached out and patted her awkwardly on the arm, as she had done for him not so long ago.

"Didn't ya believe me, earlier?"

Carol turned to face him again.

"I'm gonna find her."

"Daryl…"

"Listen. She's got a good shot. Most kids her age, they probably wouldn't stand a chance."

Carol let out a soft sob.

"But Sophia's gotten a crash course in this stuff. She's had to learn about survival, and what she does know is gonna make all the difference."

"And you've been teaching her different things," she said shakily, wiping her eyes. "You've taught both of us a lot."

He nodded at her and turned back to the stew.

Daryl wasn't sure how long that thought would really comfort her, but for now at least she had stopped crying.

He'd be back out again in the morning, and he'd make damn sure she didn't have to cry for her little girl anymore.


	9. Save the Last One

A/N: This promises to be another shorter chapter. Anything in italics is a flashback, by the way. This will most likely be the last update before Christmas, so I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!

It's been lovely hearing from everyone! I really appreciate it.

I own nothing.

**Chapter Nine: Save the Last One**

_Daryl wasn't sure how it happened._

_He just knew he had been sick of being alone, and couldn't stand to be in the house anymore. Momma had died in the room upstairs, and Merle had come home just long enough for the funeral, and to beat Daryl to within an inch of his life._

_His brother had gone back to juvie, but would be home again soon._

_And Daryl didn't want to be there when he got back._

_With Momma gone, he knew he was going to be on his own for a long time._

_So he went into the woods one morning, and just kept walking._

_By the time night had started to fall, he just wanted his own bed, but didn't know which way was the way back._

. . .

He'd been thinking about his own time in the woods as a boy, almost from the moment he had learned Sophia had gone missing.

And now, he was rehashing it again as he lay on the floor in the RV. Most other nights he would have just taken the other bunk, but he didn't want Carol sneaking out on him in the night to go and look for Sophia.

She must have caught on as to why he was bedding down on the floor, because a few moments after they had both turned in she had let out an annoyed huff before dissolving into tears again.

Daryl wasn't sure how much longer he could listen to her.

It made his chest hurt.

. . .

She hadn't wanted the sobs to take over again.

Ever since Daryl had spoken to her earlier, while making dinner, Carol had felt confident that if anyone could find Sophia, it would be him.

He would find her.

She just had to have faith.

And keep looking herself.

But then it had come time for bed, and the realization that her baby was spending another night in the woods, alone, hit her full force.

Every moment that Sophia was gone was another chance that she would get hurt, or succumb to exposure, or dehydration…

Or worse.

She wouldn't even say the words in her head though.

Not that; anything but that.

And then Daryl had put his sleeping bag on the floor.

Obviously he expected her to try to sneak out and look for Sophia herself.

Maybe she had been thinking about it, and maybe she was pissed that he had cottoned on to her plans.

Carol's momentary anger dissolved into grief again very quickly.

And so she cried.

Unable to sleep.

Unable to do anything.

. . .

_He slept in the hollow of a tree on his first night._

_Well, if you could call it sleep._

_There were noises all around him, mostly scary._

_He knew what animals those noises belonged to, because his mother had always warned him to look out for them._

_Daryl knew just what would happen if one of them found him._

_He tried to stay quiet, but the sobs got the better of him._

_It was a long time before he cried himself to sleep._

. . .

He couldn't take it anymore.

Daryl got up and put his boots on.

Carol's crying stopped momentarily, as her questioning eyes met his.

"Daryl?"

"I'm going out again."

She made a motion to rise but he stopped her.

"You should be here, just in case she finds her way back."

He nodded to her and turned to leave.

Surprisingly, Andrea volunteered to go with him.

Daryl wasn't sure how stable she was at the moment, but she had proven herself capable enough in a pinch.

. . .

_The next few days pass in a blur._

_He just knows he's hungrier and thirstier than he's ever been in his entire life, but he's afraid to eat and drink anything more because he's also never been sicker in his life._

_Or itchier._

_At least now he knows what leaves he shouldn't touch. Would have been good to know before, but what could you do?_

_The worst thing though, was that he knew no one was out looking for him._

_The only person in the world who would have been was dead now._

_Daryl was going to have to rescue himself._

_So he went in what he thought was the direction home was in, and vowed to do his best._

_It was better than sittin' around and prayin' for someone to come for him._

. . .

Andrea turned out to not be so bad.

She was quiet, and followed his lead.

If she managed to get over the shit she was currently dealing with, Daryl felt that she would make a pretty good survivalist. The skills were there; she just needed to find the determination.

He did at least have some idea of what she must be feeling.

They'd both lost a sibling, who had also been the last of their kin.

Daryl found himself opening up to her, and telling her about the time he had gotten lost.

She might have laughed at him, but he got some of his own back before he took out the hanging Walker, so that was fine.

They searched for some time, but the trail here was cold.

Daryl would have to start off in another direction tomorrow.

As they made their way back to the highway, Andrea surprised him again by putting a light hand on his shoulder.

"You know, if you're up for it, you should tell Carol that story. I really think it would help some."

He shrugged, and told her maybe it would.

They emerged from the woods, and Daryl felt that, if they weren't friends, they at least had a better understanding with one another.

His chest hurt again when they got back and Carol, who had been keeping watch on the roof of the RV, let out a sob when she saw that they didn't have Sophia with them.

. . .

_There was no one waiting for him when he finally got home._

_Just a dark, empty house._

_The first thing he did was eat until he thought his stomach would burst._

_He went down the hall after, with every intent of washing up and getting properly clean (he still had a nasty rash he had to see to), but when he reached his mother's room he found he didn't want to walk another step._

_Daryl went in and collapsed on the bed, burying his face into her pillow and trying to catch any stray traces of her scent. She had always smelled like fresh soap and roses, but now there wasn't anything left._

_She was really gone._

_He slept in her bed that night, and the next day, after Merle came home for good and Daryl's life took an even bigger turn for the worse, he shut up her room and never set foot in it until he was a man and the dead began to walk._

_Evangeline was still where she had left it on the nightstand all those years later, and it was the only thing he looked at before leaving that room and any real memories of his mother forever._

. . .

Andrea went up on the roof with Dale and Daryl went into the RV. He knew she didn't really want to be up there with the other man, but he was thankful for the privacy she was offering him all the same.

Carol was sitting up on her bed, eyes trained out on the road.

Daryl hesitated for a moment before perching on the edge of the bed.

And then he told her the story of how he had gotten lost, when he had only been nine years old and his mother had died, finally giving into the cancer she'd been fighting so hard to beat. He didn't leave any detail out, itchy backside and all, and even went so far as to tell her how it had been when he had found his way home.

"Only, it wasn't really home. Not anymore. It was just a place I lived after that. And then Merle came home and I started to forget things. Like how it had been when Momma was alive. How _I_ had been."

He paused for a moment to clear his throat.

"But it's not gonna be like that for Sophia. She's got people lookin' for her, and when she gets back, her home is gonna be with you. She's got even more reason to find her way back than I did."

Carol was crying again, but it was different this time, quieter.

When she took his hand, he was surprised to find himself welcoming the touch.

"If it means anything Daryl, and this is probably decades too late, I'm glad you found your way back."

Wasn't much he could say to that, so he changed the subject.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring Sophia back tonight," he said, remembering the anguished sound she had made when he'd come back.

Carol cast her eyes down and looked a little embarrassed.

"It's…not just that. Not seeing her with you hurt, but I was relieved you were okay too. Every time you go, I'm glad for your help, but I worry too. Anything could happen. Anything."

He squeezed her hand and waited until she looked back up and into his eyes.

"You have my word that even if something does happen, I'll come back. And I'm gonna make damn sure that before long I come back with Sophia."

They didn't say anything else.

She knew he'd be back out there at first light, and she knew she'd try again to convince him to take her along.

Daryl took his place on the floor again, but this time it was because he felt the other bunk to be too far from her.


	10. Cherokee Rose

A/N: This is by far my favorite episode of the entire series, and I've enjoyed working on this chapter as well. Hope you all like.

Italics are memories.

Thanks to everyone who has read and those who have commented. Always a pleasure.

I own nothing.

**Chapter Ten: Cherokee Rose**

Carol didn't want to join the others at the farm. If Sophia was trying to find her way back to them, she would be trying to get back to the highway.

If she would have to find another camper or truck to wait in until her baby came back, then so be it.

She sat on the hood of a yellow car near the guardrail and kept watch at the edge of the forest.

Dale was looking at her for some time, but after a while he gave up.

When she heard booted footsteps approaching she knew who it was.

Daryl slid up onto the hood next to her and looked out at the forest as well.

"You know, this whole farm thing might be a good idea. We can set up a secure base, and I could widen the search. Maybe borrow that horse, cover some more ground."

"But she won't know that we've gone. What if she comes back, and she's all alone? Or what if another herd comes down the road?"

"I have something that might help."

He leaned down and picked up his rucksack.

"There's enough food in here for days, and some sports drink. We can put it here, and keep the car unlocked so she can get inside."

Carol looked into the bag, and she did feel marginally better.

"We should leave a note," she said.

Daryl held up a small can of paint as well as a brush.

They arranged the food and drink on the hood of the car, left a note telling Sophia that she should stay put, and that they would be back every single day, and then Carol at last agreed to go along to the farm.

. . .

Daryl was in his tent after Otis's funeral, gathering some supplies so that he could head out and search again.

There was still plenty of daylight left, and he was going to use as much of it as he could to look for Sophia.

The whole time Shane had been telling them his story, Daryl had known that there was more to it. He didn't think Otis's sacrifice had been so very willing. He was going to have to keep an eye on Shane. At the very least he would keep the other man away from Carol. She didn't need anything else bothering her right now.

The woman herself came to the opening of his tent just as he was thinking of her.

"Any chance I can convince you to let me go this time?"

"Not this time, no. I need to get familiar with this side of the forest, and I can't risk anything happening to you while I'm doing it."

He felt like shit when she frowned and cast her eyes down.

"Besides, if she somehow does end up coming this way, she'll want you here. She's gonna want to see her momma before anyone else."

Carol nodded her head and turned to go.

"She's gonna be happy to see you too, Daryl. I know it."

He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he returned her nod and watched her head back to the RV.

. . .

There was one other thing Daryl wanted to do before he left camp.

Glenn was making a run in to town, and Daryl had a list for him.

Clearly, he was the last person Glenn had been expecting to see.

Daryl pressed the piece of paper into the younger man's hand.

"If you have time, Glenn, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure. Whatever you need. Be careful out there."

"Always am."

. . .

Glenn unfolded the paper in his hand, and there was Daryl's neat, precise scrawl:

_Portable DVD player_

_Batteries_

_Headphones_

_Copy of 'The Princess and the Frog'_

Glenn smiled to himself.

He would make sure to ask Maggie if there was a video store in town.

. . .

Daryl felt a little bad asking Glenn to run the errand for him, but he didn't want to lose any more time that he could be looking for Sophia.

When she came back to them, she was going to need time to rest and recover. And he couldn't think of anything she'd like better than to get to see her favorite movie again.

Maybe he'd watch it with her. See if it did _Evangeline_ any justice.

He'd just be grateful to have her by his side again.

. . .

_Somehow Sophia had become his little shadow, as well as Carol's._

_That was surprising in and of itself, but even more startling to him was that he didn't mind one bit._

_Sophia was a good kid, and she was smart. Wouldn't be too long before Daryl could teach her how to use a bow and take her hunting with him._

_For now, he was teaching her how to clean a squirrel._

"_This is really gross Daryl."_

"_You bet."_

"_I don't mind though."_

"_I can see that."_

_Weird thing was, she wasn't so squeamish as she had been when they had first met. Sad truth was that she had seen too many things to be grossed out by gutting their next meal._

"_Maybe next time though we can get something less smelly."_

_So maybe she was still a little squeamish._

. . .

Daryl tucked the squirrel he had just killed into his belt.

At any rate, he could make sure he brought back a little dinner.

. . .

"_Daryl, do you ever miss the way things used to be?"_

_He was keeping watch, and surprisingly she had volunteered to keep it with him, after getting Carol's permission. Carol had even given her a thermos full of tea for the two of them._

_It was just Lipton, but it was the best damn thing he'd had to drink in a long time._

_Daryl took a sip and thought about her question._

"_Not exactly. I miss not having to deal with Walkers all the time, but I can't really say that much else has changed. In some ways, this life is even a little bit better."_

"_I think I know what you mean. Everything here is scary, but it's nice that it's me and you and mommy now."_

"_You know, there's not many people who'd be so happy to have me around."_

_She shrugged._

"_Yeah, but then they don't really know you."_

"_You think you do?"_

"_I suppose I know enough. You tell good stories, and you're good to me and my mom, and you're brave and you like tea. It's enough to be getting on with."_

_He handed her the thermos again so that she could pour herself a cup._

"_You're not so bad yourself, half pint."_

. . .

Daryl took another drink of water from the thermos.

He'd liked it better when there had been tea in it.

Wasn't often that he found himself missing the before times, but he was regretting the time he'd been stuck without Sophia. His life had been better for her friendship, even if she was just a kid.

He found himself in a small clearing with a house, and hope surged in his chest.

Maybe Sophia had found some shelter there.

There was clearly no one inside, once he took a look around, but it couldn't hurt to see if she had ever been there.

The pile of blankets in the store cupboard was encouraging, as well as the opened tin of sardines.

Whoever had slept in that little space had to have been about Sophia's size. It was a very good sign; one of the best leads he'd had since her trail had gone cold by the highway.

Daryl felt proud of her. She'd been surviving on her own, and it looked like she was using some of the things he had taught her.

. . .

"_Never stay out in the open at night. If you're ever separated from me or your momma, make sure you find cover if it's at night. I'm not sayin' you will be or anything, but just in case."_

"_What about if Walkers could still get inside? Like in a house or a car or something?"_

"_If it's a car lock the doors. They might break the window, but locking the door is gonna give you enough time to make a plan. And if you're in a house get into a room inside where you can shut the door. They're not smart enough to pick locks and one Walker isn't going to be strong enough to bust a door in before you can get away."_

"_Okay."_

"_And always look around a place before you just blunder on in."_

"_Like with that Walker in the car the other day?"_

"_Yeah."_

_He put an awkward hand on her shoulder._

"_I'm sorry about that."_

"_Don't be. You checked. And besides, you saved my life."_

. . .

If Sophia had been in that house, she seemed to be following his advice.

Daryl just wished he'd taught her how to find her way without a compass.

Seemed stupid not to have thought of that, but how could he have ever known what was coming at them the day she got lost?

At any rate, if Sophia had been in the house, she was long gone.

He went outside, intending to look around the surrounding area before he went back to camp, when he saw it.

. . .

_Daryl went into his mother's room to check on her._

_She'd been having a rough night, and he wanted to make sure she didn't need anything before he went to bed._

"_Momma?"_

_She turned her head to look at him and smiled weakly._

"_Hey baby. You come to look in on me?"_

_He nodded and she beckoned him to come over to the bed._

"_I don't need anything right now, but you want me to tell you a story before you go to bed?"_

"_Yes please."_

_He crawled in next to her, and she put a weak arm around his tiny shoulders._

"_You know those roses we got out in the backyard? The ones that grow wild all over that back corner?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Well, those are the Cherokee roses. Now, you listen to this story real well, and you'll see why they're so special."_

. . .

Daryl reached out to touch one of the flowers.

There were two.

One for Sophia, he knew.

And one for Merle?

Somehow, Daryl didn't think so. He couldn't think so.

More likely, the other was for his Momma.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt her presence so strongly.

Very carefully, he reached out and plucked one of the flowers from the plant. He'd bring it back to Carol; maybe it would make her smile a little.

. . .

Carol was sitting in the back of the RV, darning one of Daryl's shirts.

She'd kept herself as busy as she could all day, but she felt like she was losing her mind. She could be out there with Daryl, searching. She understood what he had said about Sophia seeking her out if she found her way to the farm, but that didn't help much.

She had still been in agony with every passing second.

What if Daryl didn't find her?

Or what if something happened to Daryl?

And what if he did find Sophia, but…?

Carol could feel an awful chasm open up in her chest whenever that terrible thought reared its ugly head, and so she had worked herself into exhaustion, trying to stop her errant thoughts.

She'd been in to check on Carl, and to help Hershel tend to him some.

Everyone's laundry had been washed, dried, folded, and returned to them.

She'd kept watch for a few hours, eyes roving frantically over the edge of the forest.

Lunch and dinner had both been made.

And she'd cleaned every square inch of the RV, from floors to cupboards.

At the end of it, she'd been drained but her thoughts had been no less active.

She'd gone to some of the laundry she'd set aside for mending and taken up one of Daryl's flannels. The collar needed stitching up again. He'd fixed it himself several weeks before, but it was already coming undone. She was much more adept with a needle, so she'd just redo it.

And then she heard footsteps outside—Daryl's—and her hands trembled in anticipation.

Her heart sunk when she realized his were the only footsteps she was hearing.

Maybe he had some news though.

. . .

Daryl didn't think he'd ever seen the RV so clean before.

He looked up from the stacks of neatly piled dishes and saw Carol sitting in the back, working on one of his shirts. She had their hurricane lamp on the nightstand so that she could see a little better. He felt his stomach give a strange lurch over thinking of the lamp as theirs. It was just something they'd found on the highway, but he'd never shared anything with a woman before. Even if it was only a lamp.

The light softened her already delicate features, and even though she looked so sad, Daryl didn't think he'd ever seen her look prettier.

Her hands were shaking though, and suddenly he felt ashamed for standing there gawking at her like a loon.

Daryl made his way over to her and they nodded at each other. No Sophia. Not yet. But soon.

She smiled at him weakly.

"Cleaned up. I wanted it to be nice for her."

He nodded, thinking of the shopping list he had given Glenn earlier.

"For a second I thought I was in the wrong place."

Carol huffed out a small laugh. It was a nice sound.

He took the bottle he had been holding behind his back, and put it and the Cherokee rose down on the sill.

Carol looked up at him, puzzled.

"A flower?"

"It's a Cherokee rose."

She didn't seem to recognize the name, so he took a breath and went on.

"The story is, that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land, on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grievin' and cryin' so much cause they were losin' their little ones along the way. Exposure…disease…starvation… A lot of 'em just disappeared. So the Elders, they uh… said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits…give 'em strength…hope."

He paused, and Carol looked over at the flower again.

"The next day this rose started to grow right where the mothers' tears fell."

He ducked his head, feeling warmth seep into his face.

"I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers bloomin' for my brother…"

She looked up at him again, wiping at the tears that had started to course down her cheeks.

"But I…I believe this one…it bloomed for your little girl."

She smiled at him, and let out a soft sob. She didn't say anything, but she did nod at him, and she looked a little bit better.

He didn't know what else to say, so he smiled and turned to go.

Passing by those clean dishes again, he paused and looked back for a moment. Carol was watching him go, and her eyes were shining. Now she looked prettier than ever.

"She's gonna really like it in here."

Carol sniffed and looked around with another small smile.

As he went out the door, he took one last look at her.

She had put her sewing down and was looking at the flower thoughtfully.

. . .

Carol felt that maybe she would sleep tolerably well that night.

When Daryl had been telling her that story, she felt better than she had in a long time. Obviously he thought it was some kind of sign (and later, when he told her about the house and what he found there, she felt hopeful too). He would find Sophia. She knew it.

It had been a long time since someone had brought her flowers. For all his initial charm, Ed had never done that.

And she'd never felt about Ed the way she had been coming to feel about Daryl, even when things had been good with her husband.

Daryl was certainly rough around the edges, but he was a good man. She had been right: without Merle around to bully him, Daryl was able to show them all how he really was. And he was a man with a good heart.

Carol didn't think she'd ever seen him look so handsome as he had when he had set that flower down on the windowsill. She'd felt silly for thinking it at the time, but it had been honest.

And the way she wanted him was honest too. She liked what they had, but she wanted everything with this man. She wasn't so sure he was willing or able to give her that just yet though, so she would gladly take what they already had if it meant he'd always be by her side.

She was surprised to find him already in the RV, putting something away in the nightstand. He had their hurricane lamp going again, but she knew it wouldn't be long before they'd have to put it out. She felt inordinately fond of the lamp, just because it was theirs. And now they could share the Cherokee rose too.

He knew she was there. She could tell by the way his shoulders stiffened, as if he didn't want her to see what he was doing.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Whatcha got there, Daryl?"

Neither of them had expected her to really ask, and his hands fumbled a bit, a DVD case dropping from them.

He picked it up and gave it to her.

"Might as well see, since you caught me," he huffed.

She looked at it.

It was a copy of "The Princess and the Frog."

Carol had to sit down.

"Where'd you get this?"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Glenn was making a run in to town, and I asked him to pick up a few things. I figured Sophia would like it, once she comes back."

Carol ran her fingers over the movie case.

Everything.

She wanted everything.

. . .

He was quiet as a mouse when he came back from his watch, but Carol wasn't sleeping anyway.

The bed dipped down with his weight as he sat perched on the edge.

She looked up at him when he put a hand on her back.

"I'm gonna borrow a horse tomorrow, cover some more ground. She can't have gotten too far from that house, so…"

Carol nodded up at him.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze and turned to get up.

She reached out and took his hand.

"Please stay."

"I'm just gonna be in the next bunk."

"I know, but…"

Carol was thankful it was dark. Her cheeks were flushed.

She didn't know how to tell him that she just wanted him there, next to her, no strings attached.

Somehow, he seemed to understand.

"Make room then."

She slid closer to the wall as he took of his boots and put them by his bed.

He climbed into bed next to her, and she took her hand in his again, lacing their fingers together.

Hers weren't the only hands shaking as they dozed off, side by side.


	11. Chupacabra

A/N: This episode is still pretty painful to watch, so I didn't really focus too much on Daryl falling over that ledge so many times. He's still all banged up, but I'm going to go as easy on him as I can.

It's been lovely hearing from all of you, and also to see that people have been reading this at all! Thank you.

Nothing here is mine.

**Chapter Eleven: Chupacabra**

Daryl's eyes opened just as the sun came over the horizon.

He'd been waking with the dawn for many years, but never quite like this.

Truthfully, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually shared a bed with a woman. Not like this. His encounters with women were usually brief, just enough to fulfill his needs. Daryl never stuck around, and no woman had ever asked him to.

He had shared more with Carol than he ever had with any of those women, and nothing had even happened between them yet.

Another truth: that possibility, that "yet," scared him shitless.

Daryl looked over at Carol, deciding to push aside any troubling thoughts about where this thing was going, and to just enjoy the moment for what it was.

The worry that had been so constant in her face was erased in sleep. Her long eyelashes were so dark against her pale cheeks, and he was glad to see that, for once, there weren't any tears clinging to them.

Her face, much like the woman herself, had a gentleness to it, that shone through even now.

She looked so delicate that Daryl found himself appreciating her hair for the first time. It added a bit of scruffiness to her that was otherwise not there. It was starting to grow out too. He wanted to see what it would look like if allowed to grow long, but he figured it was just as well this way. Made it one less thing for any Walkers to get a hold of.

Daryl put his boots on and, before he could really think about it, leaned down and put a hand to her cheek, letting his thumb run over the softness there.

Cursing himself for a fool, he took up his crossbow and left.

. . .

Finding Sophia's doll in the stream was the best thing he had come across so far.

Daryl worried over what had caused her to drop it, when she'd been clinging to it night and day since she'd gotten it, but he figured she could have left it in a hurry.

She could be close.

"Sophia!"

He waited one agonized moment, his heart thundering in anticipation.

Nothing.

Looking at the doll more closely, he saw that it was soaked through.

It'd been a while since Sophia had last seen it then.

But it also meant she'd been sticking by the river, trying to find her way back.

He would go back up to the horse and keep along the edge of the ravine. If Sophia was wandering around down here, it was his best chance of seeing her.

Maybe tonight she'd be having dinner with him and Carol.

. . .

_They'd started taking all their meals together after the CDC._

_Sophia would sit between them, and when she was done she'd go off to be with Carl for a while._

_Carol watched her daughter go with a small smile on her face._

"_Penny for your thoughts."_

_She looked at him and smiled._

"_Afraid a penny won't get you much else these days."_

"_True enough."_

"_I was just thinking…it's nice. These dinners we have. Sophia's never had too many of them before. Hell, she's never really had any friends to play with before. It was always just me and her, and that was fine, but if I'm honest with myself, in some ways her life is better now."_

_She looked over at Sophia again, who was sitting and laughing with Carl now._

"_It's awful to say, but it's true, all the same."_

. . .

As his eyes scoured the streambed below him, Daryl thought of other times he'd been able to steal a moment with Carol.

He enjoyed Sophia's company a whole lot, but he had been drawn more and more to her mother. Part of taking care of Sophia and keeping her safe was caught up in how he felt about Carol. He wasn't sure what he felt, but it was significant that he was feeling anything at all.

Daryl had found himself looking forward to just sitting by her for a spell. Didn't matter what they were doing, or what they talked about, so long as she was by his side.

. . .

_Another night, not long after they'd found that hurricane lamp._

_Sophia had just gone to sleep, but neither of them were ready to turn in just yet._

"_So, tell me about this Skunk Ape sighting of yours."_

"_You really wanna hear it?"_

_He shrugged._

"_You know about the chupacabra."_

"_Fair enough."_

_She smiled at him, and he noticed in the lamplight that her cheeks were flushed._

"_For starters, I lied."_

"_Hell just froze over."_

"_Very funny, smartass."_

"_And now you're cussin'. Stop blowin' my mind."_

_She leaned over and swatted his arm playfully._

"_Okay, so I lied about when I saw the Skunk Ape. I was actually pregnant with Sophia when it happened. Our house was edged by a track of forest, and one night, I was sitting up, feeling pretty sick. I heard some rustling out back, sounded like footsteps. Ed was asleep, and I didn't dare wake him. He'd been in a nasty temper that night, more so than usual._

"_So, I went to the kitchen window to look out, and there was something looking back in at me. It looked like an oversized orangutan, and it had red eyes."_

"_Can't have red eyes. Chupacabras have red eyes."_

"_Hush up. His eyes were red."_

"_Yes ma'am."_

"_Anyway, I looked at him, and he looked at me, and before I could yell out, he turned and ran."_

"_How do you know it wasn't some guy in a suit?"_

"_He stank so bad it was seeping into the house."_

"_Could have been a smelly guy in a suit."_

"_And your chupacabra could have been an old coyote with mange."_

"_You know, I'm really startin' to like this new bad attitude you got."_

. . .

If he hadn't been so lost in thoughts of Carol, he might have seen the snake.

As it was, the horse spooked, Daryl was tossed, and everything went to hell in a hand basket.

. . .

Daryl didn't remember what had come next very clearly.

He just knew he was pissed off and scared.

And Merle was there. Somehow. Kind of.

No one was gonna look for him though, so it was up to him to get back to camp on his own.

Carol might come out to look, maybe, but no way was he gonna risk that.

. . .

In the end, all he got for his troubles was a shot to the head.

Fucking typical.

. . .

Daryl came to in an unfamiliar room.

Hershel and Rick were standing over him, the farmer wearing his usual stern expression and Rick beaming at Daryl as he opened his eyes.

"You gave us quite a scare there, Daryl."

"You didn't have to shoot me."

Rick let out a startled laugh, Hershel got to work, and Daryl told them what had happened.

. . .

Carol paced nervously in the kitchen downstairs.

She'd been enjoying herself so much, being in a real kitchen again, cooking with a real stove for once.

Lori thought the dinner was to thank Hershel and his family, which it was, but if Carol was honest with herself the dinner was also for Daryl.

He'd done so much, and she felt as if she had done so little. She hadn't been back out into the woods to look (and that was an argument she was going to take up with him again, because this waiting around stuff was agony) and he'd been taking on much of the search without help from the others either.

Carol had been fixing up some beef stew, just for him, when she heard the shot ring out and Rick's screams.

When they'd brought Daryl into the house, her legs had gone out from under her.

After being assured he wasn't dead, they had whisked him away and she had been left to pace around, all thoughts of cooking pushed aside.

Lori had seen to the stew instead, but Carol could feel the other woman's eyes watching her as well.

She knew Lori was concerned, but she was grateful to her friend for giving her some space.

After what felt like an age, she heard Rick's boots on the stairs and ran over to him.

Before she could even ask, he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"He's gonna be just fine Carol."

"What on earth happened?"

"Snake spooked his horse. He took a couple tumbles down the ravine, and an arrow to the side. And…Andrea tried to shoot him. Thought he was a Walker."

Carol put a hand over her mouth, desperately trying not to be sick at the thought of how she could have lost him.

"He's gonna be just fine though, I swear," Rick said, squeezing her shoulder.

Carol could do nothing more than nod, trying to get her emotions under control again.

"And…he brought something back for you. I think it's a damn good sign, and so does Daryl."

He brought his other hand out from behind his back, and gave her Sophia's doll.

Speechless again, she took it into her shaking hands with a small, choked sob.

"He's unconscious again, but Hershel says you should be able to go see him in a bit."

Rick looked into her eyes then, and a familiar sadness came into his handsome face. It was there every time he looked at her lately, and Carol knew exactly what he was about to say. After all, he was her friend too.

"Carol, I don't know how to fix this. I am sorry for everything. At the time, I just… and now…"

She put a hand over his mouth, and he looked at her in surprise.

"Please, Rick. Don't. I… I was angry, and I still am angry, but not at you. I know you did what you thought would give Sophia her best chance, and for that I do thank you."

She sucked in a watery breath and let him go.

"You've been a friend to me, Rick, and you still will be, no matter what happens."

His eyes had filled with tears, and he gave her a slow nod.

Carol had seldom seen him so unsure of himself. He carried the burden of blame for all of them, of everything they had ever done, and had been done to them, or had happened to them. And she could see that he was starting to crack under the pressure. She wouldn't be the one to break him. She was broken enough to never wish the same on anyone else.

"Dinner's almost ready."

He leaned down and pressed a small kiss to her cheek.

. . .

Dinner was almost painfully quiet.

It was nothing like the meals she had gotten so used to sharing with Daryl and Sophia.

There were times they didn't speak much either, but it had never been this uncomfortable.

. . .

"_Who taught you to cook?"_

"_Julia Child."_

"_No shit."_

_Carol laughed at the flabbergasted look on Daryl's face._

"_Well, not really. I just mean I learned from her book. Mom died when I was still in middle school, and Dad took sick not long after, so it was up to me to pick up a cookbook and learn."_

"_Your parents been dead a long time then."_

"_Yes. Dad lingered until I finished high school. He was so weak, poor man, but he wanted to see me get my diploma so bad. And he got to, I made sure of that."_

"_No other kin?"_

"_None. Not til Sophia, anyway. And she's always been enough for me."_

_She smiled at him._

"_That's still true, but all the same I'm glad you crossed paths with us."_

"_Don't go gettin' all mushy now. We're only sharin' some oatmeal."_

_He grinned shyly as she burst out laughing._

. . .

Carol went into the kitchen when she had finished, so she could fix up a plate for Daryl.

She'd kept the beef stew on the stove, so it would be nice and warm when she took it up to him. She ladled out a good sized bowl, and put that on a tray along with a fresh roll and a glass of Kool Aid. It wasn't much, but hopefully he would like it.

As she went carefully up the stairs, she found herself growing more nervous at the thought of seeing him.

He'd almost _died_ today.

And it had happened while he had been looking for Sophia.

She didn't know what she would do, if she lost him too.

Because even though he'd brought back Sophia's doll, she didn't think it was the good sign that he and Rick did.

Sophia had never let the doll out of her sight.

Carol knew something terrible must have happened, for her baby to give up her constant little companion.

And Daryl had nearly been killed bringing it back to her.

The thought returned to her again and again, and by the time she reached his door, her hands and the tray were shaking.

She knocked as best she could and went in.

Daryl was awake, and looked surprised to see her.

He tried to cover up so she wouldn't see the damage that he'd suffered, but she'd already gotten an eyeful.

Deciding he was probably uncomfortable enough as it was, she decided not to mention it.

"How do you feel?"

"'Bout as good as I look."

He may have been bruised and battered, but he still looked good to her. Not that he'd want to hear that though.

"Brought you some dinner," she said, indicating the tray. "I'll be back in a bit to clear it out."

She hesitated, at a loss for what to say, how to thank him.

Carol gathered her courage and approached the bed.

She only hesitated for another moment before leaning down and kissing his forehead.

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Before he could ask, she explained her actions.

"You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life."

Daryl's face went from surprised to closed off, defensive.

"It wasn't anything Rick or Shane wouldn't have done," he growled.

This was an old, but silent argument between them. He would never think himself equal to those two, especially Rick. But Carol knew otherwise. It wasn't Rick she wanted to build a life with, after all.

He had barely finished speaking before the words came out of her mouth.

"I know. You're every bit as good as them. Every bit."

. . .

Daryl's heart was pounding when she left the room.

Damn woman was losing her marbles if she thought he was anything like Rick Grimes.

He was a Dixon. And nothing more. The only reason these people let him stay on was because he knew how to hunt.

Even Carol, and Sophia, would never have taken a second look at him if the world hadn't ended.

He looked over at the tray she had left.

She'd made him beef stew.

For once, he felt too sick to eat the food she'd made him.

He didn't deserve it.

And he didn't deserve her.

He wanted her. More than anything, if the fire her kiss had left burning in his skin was anything to go by. And he wanted to share his life with her. And Sophia.

But the life he had to offer was no kind of life for them.

Daryl forced himself to eat his dinner, trying to ignore the voice in his head that was thinking all of these things, the voice that sounded an awful lot like Merle.

. . .

Carol looked for Hershel after she had finished cleaning up with Lori.

He was in the parlor, sitting down with a book, but he looked up when she came in.

"Sorry to bother you."

"What's on your mind, Carol?"

"I was wondering if it would be alright if I sat up with Daryl tonight. You've already done so much, I thought I'd let you get some rest."

She didn't tell him she'd already packed an overnight bag, but she figured he had probably seen it sitting in the hall earlier.

"Aren't you tired? You haven't stopped hustling and bustling all day."

"Just trying to keep busy. Besides, I haven't been sleeping so well lately anyway."

"I am sorry about your girl."

"Thank you," she whispered. She hadn't expected to tear up so suddenly.

"There's some extra towels in the linen cupboard upstairs if you want to wash up."

"Thanks Hershel. I sure do appreciate it."

He got up to leave, and she stepped into his way.

"I'm sorry about Otis. And your wife and boy."

"I appreciate that. Goodnight Carol."

. . .

She washed up as quickly as she could, and when she got back to Daryl's room he was still asleep, as he had been earlier when she'd been in to pick up his tray.

There was an armchair by the bed, so she took a seat there, and propped her feet up on the side of the bed.

Daryl didn't seem to need anything at the moment; his breathing was deep and even. She knew it was the first real sleep he'd gotten in days.

Carol sat back, content to just watch him.

He looked younger like this, though there was still a slight frown on his face, as though not even sleep could take away the things he carried with him. Despite the bandages and bruises, he still looked strong to her. And she would always believe him to be strong, because she didn't know if she could be.

The sheet he'd pulled up so self-consciously before had been pushed back down again, and in the moonlight she could see the scars on his chest. Despite running around with no sleeves half the time, she had never seen his chest before. The map of scars there told her things that he never had.

Daryl was strong, and brave, and he had been her rock during the darkest time of her life, but seeing him like this, she knew that he was breakable too. That he was in fact broken, just like her.

He shifted a bit on the bed, exposing more of his chest and stomach.

Carol looked past the scars, and was a little surprised by the stab of longing she felt. She wanted him, but had no idea how to go about it. There'd never been anyone else but Ed, and it had never been any good. She knew it would be different with Daryl, if the brief kiss they had shared was anything to go by. But she wasn't sure that he could ever want that with her. He hadn't tried anything since that night. He didn't even remember that night.

She forced her eyes away from him, and from those thoughts.

There were far more important things to worry about.

Like how she was supposed to live without her baby girl.

Carol turned to look out the window, but didn't bother to look out over the fields. Her eyes had been so restless, always looking for Sophia, always waiting for her to pop up at any moment.

But the only thing that had come back to her was the doll she held in her hands now.

And Carol was pretty sure it was the only thing that was coming back.

She allowed the tears to course freely down her face, but didn't make a sound.

Daryl needed to rest.

. . .

It was well after midnight the next time he opened his eyes.

Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her sitting by his bed.

She couldn't have been asleep too long, because the tears were still wet on her face.

He wasn't sure what to think about her being there.

Daryl had fallen asleep thinking about her, about how he had let her down again.

Sophia's time was running out. He'd made it on his own nine days, and she'd been gone almost as long. But she had Walkers to deal with. If he didn't bring her back soon…

He couldn't let himself think it. Not Sophia. Not his little girl.

His chest suddenly felt very heavy.

When had she become his little girl? He was no kind of father.

"You got that right, baby brother."

Merle again.

"You know, for someone who's probably dead, you sure do come round to visit a lot lately."

"Someone has to keep an eye on you Darlena! Look what you been up to since I been gone! Takin' on stupid little kids and moonin' over some worn out old tail."

"Don't talk about them that way!"

Merle laughed.

"Oh? What you gonna do, little man? Looks to me like you've been goin' about this all wrong. You think she's gonna want you, anyway?"

"Fuck off, Merle," he said tiredly.

Daryl looked over at Carol. She did look worn out, but not in the way Merle had implied. She hadn't been sleeping much since Sophia went missing. Most nights she'd sat up, her eyes moving tirelessly, scanning the horizon for any sign of her little girl.

And now she was all curled up in a chair. If anyone deserved to be in a nice soft bed it was her.

He didn't think he could share it with her though. There were just some things he wouldn't be able to hide in his current state, and he knew she would only be embarrassed by him. A good woman like her couldn't want him.

Her legs were propped up on the side of the bed. He couldn't remember ever seeing so much of her skin. But now her legs were bare, and her nightshirt had rucked up some. He wanted to run his hands over the smooth skin, and he wanted to hear the sounds she would make as he did it.

Daryl buried his face into his pillow with a frustrated groan. Those thoughts were not helping his situation.

She could at least cover up with a blanket.

Carol suddenly opened her eyes. She must have heard him.

"Daryl? You alright?"

"Fine."

"You need anything for the pain?"

"No."

She sat back again, and ran a hand over her face.

"I… I'm…"

"Spit it out."

Her eyes spilled over with tears again, and he felt like an ass.

"Sorry."

Carol wiped at her eyes.

"No, it's not your fault. I'm just so glad you came back."

This woman was trying to kill him.

But he knew what he had to say.

Because even if she didn't want him the way he did her, Daryl was going to stay as close to her as he could, for as long as he could.

And Merle could shut the fuck up about it.

"I'll always come back."


	12. Secrets

A/N: This one is going to be a shorter chapter. But I hope to set up some things for the next one, because that one is going to be a much longer one, I should think!

Many thanks to everyone who has read this, and those who have taken the time to leave me some feedback. It's been lovely to hear from all of you.

This might well be the last update before New Year's, so wishing you all a happy, healthy, and lucky 2012.

I own nothing!

**Chapter Twelve: Secrets**

Daryl was awake before Carol again the next morning.

There were already sounds coming from downstairs. Hershel, more than likely. He'd be up with the dawn, like most men were in his walk of life.

He looked over at the woman sleeping in the chair.

She still looked tired, like she hadn't gotten any real rest.

And then her eyes opened, and they were red and puffy.

But she smiled at him, all the same.

"How are you feeling?"

"A damn sight better n' last night."

"Good."

She stood and stretched, going up on her toes, her arms reaching up to the ceiling.

Daryl averted his eyes. Wouldn't do to be ogling her like some schoolboy.

"Do you need anything before I go?"

"Where you off to already?"

"I'm gonna go get some breakfast going, get your tent set up."

"What for?"

"Well, you won't be out looking today. Hershel says you need to keep off your feet or those stitches are gonna pop."

"Who's going out then?"

"Rick's organizing a search based on what you told him, and Glenn's gonna head into town to scope things out."

"And my tent?"

Was she kicking him out of the RV? Maybe she was fed up with him hovering around.

"It'll be too hot for you to be cooped up in the RV. Thought you might be a little more comfortable in the tent."

Hershel came in then, derailing his response. She shouldn't be fussing over him. She had more important things to do.

Carol wished Hershel a good morning, picked up her bag, and left the room.

Hershel made an approving noise as he looked over Daryl's stitches.

"Your wife's a good woman, settin' up with you like that."

Daryl felt his face burn.

"She ain't my wife."

Hershel raised an eyebrow at that, but he made no apologies.

Daryl decided then and there that he wasn't too fond of farmers.

. . .

Carol kept herself as busy as possible again.

There'd been no true rest for her the night before, between sitting up and crying, or mooning over Daryl (she felt like a fool for it), or having the worst things invade her dreams. Nightmares, really.

But she couldn't just sit around.

If she couldn't be out in the forest, she would keep things under control at camp.

Besides, Lori was off in her own world, it seemed. She didn't know what was bothering the other woman, but truthfully she didn't want to ask. Carol didn't think she had the energy to give Lori her full support and attention for whatever it was that was going on.

It was up to Carol to keep things running for the moment, and she was grateful.

. . .

Daryl appreciated Andrea bringing him the book, but it was really terrible.

Dale either had shit taste, or he'd packed the thing before he knew the world was ending.

He set it aside, and leaned back a little further into the pillows Carol had left him, content to watch what was going on at camp.

If he was going to be sitting on his lazy ass all day, he could at least keep an eye out.

As ever, his bow was right by his side.

Things were quiet though.

Except where Carol was concerned.

She was all over the place, doing a thousand things at once.

Laundry, mending, gathering fire wood with Carl, keeping the fire going, checking on their rations…

She was making him dizzy.

He had to close his eyes, and he must have been more tired than he thought, because before he knew it he had dozed off.

. . .

Carol brought him some lunch a little later.

He was still sleeping; had been for a while.

She was a bit glad he had dozed off. She'd felt his eyes on her all morning, and it had made her restless.

She'd done everything she'd needed to for the day before she had even started to fix up their lunch.

Knowing he would startle if she touched him, she cleared her throat as loud as she could.

It did the trick, and his eyes snapped open.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Brought you some lunch."

He sat up very slowly.

"Thanks."

She sat down by him, and handed him the plate. It was some hash she'd put together with last night's leftovers. It was almost as good as the stew she had made him.

He cut his portion in half, and pushed some to the side of the plate, handing her the fork as well.

"Didn't see you eat yet today."

"Don't be silly. I can fix something up later."

"Or you could eat now. We ain't had a meal together in a few days."

Carol could feel her cheeks heat up as she took the fork from him, their fingertips brushing.

"Well, I do like hash."

. . .

She came back to him once she had taken their plate and cleaned up.

"You run out of things to do?"

"Thought you were watching me this morning."

He shrugged.

"It was better than the book Andrea brought me. Who the hell wants to read about a sharktopus?"

Carol choked out a small laugh.

"Sophia would have liked that. She was always into weird stories. She always liked Disney and fairy tales, but other than that movie her favorite thing was the Loch Ness monster."

"She's a strange one, that's for sure. But it's a good thing."

She smiled at him.

"She loved _Evangeline_ too. I think it replaced Nessie for her, when it came right down to it."

"What did you like to read about? Before?"

"Anything and everything. I was a librarian, you know, before Ed."

Daryl thought about it, and it suited her. He could see her, sitting quietly surrounded by a bunch of books. It was the quiet life someone like her should have been able to have.

"I sort of fell into it after Dad passed on, and I grew to love it. There was a certain romance to the whole thing. I could go into work everyday and end up someplace else by coffee break, you know?

"The house I grew up in was mine now, but I couldn't stay. I needed something that was really my own. So I sold the old place and got a small house not far from the library. And I stayed there, just the way I was, until Ed came along."

"He didn't seem much like the library type."

"He wasn't. I ran in to him at the diner down the road, and that was it. I was pushing thirty, and starting to realize that I wasn't going to be whisked away by a dashing sea captain or a lonely prince who needed me to break his spell. I just wanted someone to look out for me, give me a family again, and Ed seemed good enough as anyone.

"And it was good, at first. He was attentive, and a charmer. But we got married, and I got pregnant almost right away, and things went to hell after that. He…he…"

She blushed, unable to finish the sentence.

Daryl got the idea, though. He had dropped the act, and the abuse started. Bastard probably hadn't touched her except to beat the shit out of her after that.

"Well, that's enough sob stories for one day, I think."

"I worked a gator boat during the season. Lived off the money from that and my savings the rest of the year."

She had been starting to tear up, but now she looked at him, and she calmed again as he spoke.

"Usually I had more n' enough tags to set me up for the off season. If it was a lean year, I just hunted more to make up the difference. Never been married, never felt the need to be before.

"When Merle wasn't around, I'd sit around the old place and read at night. When he was, I was too busy taking care of him to do anything else. Sometimes I couldn't show my face in town, either, if he was home."

He paused, but figured he might as well just come out with it. He had to tell someone.

"I saw him yesterday, Carol."

"You saw Merle?"

"Yeah. Well, I lost a lot of blood, but when I was down in that ravine, he came to me. Got me to climb back up."

She was staring at him.

"I know he wasn't really there. But all the same…"

He shrugged.

"Merle was and wasn't many things, but he was still kin."

"I understand. It's hard, not having family."

He didn't know how to tell her that she was his family now, so he let the matter rest. Something was off with her today too. She was alright now, and he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something wrong about the way she had been talking.

Carol's eyes were starting to droop. Looked like her exhaustion was finally starting to get the best of her.

Daryl took one of his pillows and handed it to her.

"Get some rest. I'll keep watch."

She was asleep before her head really hit the pillow.

It wasn't until then that Daryl realized what had been off the whole time they'd been talking.

She had been talking about Sophia in the past tense.

Like she wasn't coming back.

Daryl felt sick all of a sudden.

He'd be back out again tomorrow.

There was no way he was going to sit around while Carol was starting to lose hope. He wasn't going to let that happen.

First thing in the morning, he was getting himself another horse.


	13. Pretty Much Dead Already

A/N: I had originally planned to end this story with this chapter. However, after some coaxing, and a lot of thinking, I've decided to continue this. So, when the show comes back, I'll just keep going along with the episodes, for as long as that's possible.

This chapter has been very tough to write, so I would really appreciate any feedback.

There's also another author's note at the end, with a bit of a treat.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has been reading this, and to those who have taken the time to leave me a message. Special thanks to Missmishka, KajaM, and Quicksilvermad especially. I always look forward to hearing from you.

I own nothing!

**Chapter Thirteen: Pretty Much Dead Already**

Daryl was grateful for the dawn.

He hadn't slept more than a couple hours anyway; his thoughts had kept him awake, and feeling sick.

What if Carol thought Sophia was dead? Or worse?

She'd been even quieter than usual the night before, and even though he'd tried to talk about Sophia, she'd always managed to change the subject around on him.

Carol had insisted he sleep in the RV, since he was still recovering. He hadn't wanted to be coddled, but he figured he'd be able to keep an eye on her, at least.

She hadn't fallen asleep for a long time, and when she had it had been restless.

And not once yesterday had she tried to go out with the others to look, or argued with him about it. She'd been doing that every single day, without fail.

Daryl hoped he was wrong, and that Carol had just wanted to keep an eye on him or something.

He was sick of sitting on his ass though.

Injured or not, he was going out again to look for Sophia. And he wasn't coming back without her.

Maybe then Carol would snap out of it.

As quietly as he could, and ignoring the pulling in his side, he put his boots on and went out to face the day.

. . .

Carol's eyes snapped open as soon as the RV door closed.

She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, but she dragged herself out of bed and followed Daryl as quietly as she could.

He couldn't be going out again.

It was over.

She had to tell him that she didn't think Sophia was coming back.

The night had been agony, as had the night before that. She didn't want to face the possibility that her little girl was really gone, but Carol knew in her heart that something had happened.

Because Sophia would never have dropped her doll.

She just wouldn't have.

Carol still couldn't really admit to herself that the worst had happened, but she was starting to think about it, and that was enough for her.

She had to face reality.

Just like she'd been doing for so many years.

Reality was people hurting you, and horrible things happening to you and people you loved, whether or not those things were deserved.

But it also meant that you should hang on to and cherish the people and things you still had.

And she still had Daryl.

Despite everything, if she could just keep him by her side, Carol thought she might make it through this. Might be able to navigate her way through this hell without her little angel.

As she followed his path into the stables, she knew she had to make him understand.

They were family now, and she needed him.

She wouldn't tell him everything she was feeling just yet, probably not for a long time, if ever…

But she just had to make him think about it.

Daryl had a right to know, no matter how much it was going to hurt her to share her doubts and her fears.

Because she didn't know how she'd function if she lost him, too.

. . .

Daryl had heard her following him, and couldn't help the hope that came into his heart.

Maybe she wanted to go with him, after all.

Maybe he had just jumped to conclusions.

But then she started talking, and there were tears on her face again, and she was asking him not to go.

"We don't know if we're gonna find her Daryl. We don't."

There was a roaring sound in his ears, anger and disbelief sweeping over him at once.

He turned to face her, and another tear slid down her cheek.

He knew she could see the anger in his face, because she shifted on her feet and cast her eyes to the floor.

"I don't," she whispered.

She thought Sophia was dead. She actually thought that that little girl, who'd been living in hell already before the world had gone along, and had survived, and still been sweet, and who was so brave and so young, and had liked _him_ of all people, had wanted him to read her stories, and to sit by her side, and had kissed his cheek like he was somebody…

"What?"

Carol hesitated, and then said five words that nearly broke him:

"I can't lose you too."

Daryl felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Did she mean…?

The idea that this woman could be feeling everything he had been for so long, and that she, just as her daughter did, thought he meant something, that he was family, that maybe she even loved him was too much for Daryl.

Carol didn't need that. She didn't need him letting her down on top of everything else.

And she was a fool if she ever thought he could give her what she needed.

She was asking him to give up, too. After all the searching he'd done, after finding Sophia's doll, after almost dying to get their girl back…

Daryl felt something snap within him.

There was a pain in his chest now, as well as a pulling in his side.

He dropped the reins he was holding, and stormed over to the saddle he had set up, knocking it to the ground in his fury.

His side was agony; he couldn't hold back a wince.

Carol ran up behind him, asking if he was alright.

He'd just flipped out on her, and she was still trying to look after him?

Daryl waved her off roughly.

"Just leave me be!"

He stormed out of the stables, not bothering to stifle his words as he called her a stupid bitch.

She'd better have heard every word, every nasty syllable, because it would be good for her.

It would snap her out of it, and then he wouldn't have to face the terrifying possibilities that she had just presented him with.

. . .

Carol busied herself around the camp that morning.

Even after learning about the Walkers in the barn, she wasn't too worried.

It had been secure as long as they'd been there, so it stood to reason that the barn wasn't too full. It would hold a while longer, at least.

Her mind was full of other things: Daryl and Sophia mostly.

The effort of admitting out loud that maybe her daughter really wasn't coming back had cost her even more than she had thought it would. Actually saying the words had made it all more real somehow.

Since Sophia had gone missing, she'd been in this strange sort of limbo. She was a grieving mother, but didn't know if she had the right to be. And she had hoped so desperately at the same time that, at any moment, Daryl would be returning to their camp with Sophia in his arms.

So many times she'd thought about running to them, and holding her baby close. She would get Sophia cleaned up, fix her some of her favorite stew, and everyone would be so relieved. And Daryl would surprise her with that movie Glenn had gotten for them, and they'd all watch it together. Their little family would be okay again.

At the same time, she'd tried to reconcile herself to the idea of living life without Sophia. It was almost too terrible to think about. For so long, her daughter had been her reason for living. Carol had wanted to do better by her, to finally leave Ed, and start a new life for them. But now she had to face the idea of surviving for her own sake. She only ever got as far as that thought before she felt sick and the tears overwhelmed her again.

After everything he'd done, she knew it wasn't fair to ask or expect Daryl to help her through it. But she doubted her own strength, and hoped more than anything that she would have him to lean on, for as long as she was still around in this world.

But when she'd hinted at how much he meant to her, he had lashed out.

For a moment, she thought she had seen an almost tender look on his face, and then he had become so furious with her that she doubted that look had actually been there.

Carol decided to shut her thoughts off for a while and just do her chores.

It wasn't even noon yet, and she was already exhausted.

. . .

Daryl paced along a path on the edge of the farm, his thoughts a whirlwind.

He felt like such an asshole.

What Carol had told him this morning was probably the hardest thing she had ever had to say, and she'd trusted him with her fears that her little girl was gone.

And she'd tried to tell him that she needed him.

Instead of manning up and facing what she had said, he'd reacted in the only way he'd known how to since he'd been very small: with anger and hate.

Maybe he'd been too wrapped up in the idea that if he could just find Sophia, somehow they'd all be okay.

No one had come to look for him when he had been lost as a boy, and he had wanted so badly to give Sophia what had been taken from him so many years before: someone who would always look for her, always find her.

He knew in his bones that she was still out there somewhere.

And he hated that Carol was giving up.

She couldn't.

They couldn't.

Daryl wanted to get out there and look, Walkers in the barn be damned. He knew they would all have to deal with that sooner rather than later, but for the time being Sophia was much more important.

Carol was going to come with him, too.

Maybe if she was out there with him, she would see why he had such high hopes for the girl.

First though, he had to make things right with Carol. He just wasn't sure how. Apologizing might not be good enough.

He came to a bend on the path, and noticed a small swimming hole.

And right there, growing at its edge, was a Cherokee rose.

Daryl turned around and went to get Carol.

. . .

In the dark, she smelled something different.

There had been lots of good smells not so long ago, but they had gone away so fast.

Now, she could smell a man walking close by again.

His scent was familiar to her.

He smelled so good.

She let out a soft growl as he moved away and she was left again with nothing but the stench of the others.

. . .

Carol was hanging the wash when Daryl came up to her.

She knew he was sorry; she could tell by the way he held himself.

After thinking on it for a while, she had realized she wasn't angry with him. He wasn't used to kindness or affection. Only anger and hurt. He had reacted in what was probably the only way he knew. It didn't make it okay, but she did understand.

Besides, he obviously felt bad. And it was more than anyone who had ever done her wrong had felt, so it was enough for her.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, but she knew he wanted something so she stopped what she was doing.

"Wanna show you something," he said softly.

Carol nodded and let him lead the way.

She knew what he wanted to show her even before he pointed it out.

"See it?" he asked.

They came to a stop in front of the Cherokee rose and just looked at it for a moment, enjoying the peace of that little spot.

She could hear the crickets singing in the heat, and the slight breeze whistling through the cattails, but she thought her heart was beating much louder than either of those things.

Her eyes kept moving between the flower and Daryl, but his eyes never left her face.

He shuffled his feet, and then looked her in the eye for the first time since he'd lashed out at her.

"Hell, I'm sorry about what happened this mornin'."

Carol could only blink in surprise.

She certainly hadn't expected an apology.

His eyes were so blue; she had to look at the rose again. It was safer.

He had surprised her so much that she ended up asking the question she'd been wanting to since that awful day by the side of the road.

"You were goin' to look for her. Why?"

She snuck a glance at him. His eyes moved from her face and back to the flower.

"This whole time I just wanted to ask you."

He and Sophia had gotten to be friends, but Carol knew that he didn't have any real obligations to her daughter. What he had done had been out of the goodness of his heart, and she couldn't fathom someone else sticking their necks out for her or Sophia. They'd been fending for themselves for so long.

But his answer was simple, and she knew it to be the truth.

"Cause I think she's still out there."

Their eyes met again, and he nodded at her.

"Truth is, what else have I got to do?"

Despite everything, he still believed. And he wanted her to believe again too.

Carol looked at the rose, and reached out to touch it. It was fragile, but it held up under the pressure of her fingers. It was something beautiful, untouched by the world crashing down around it.

She felt herself starting to hope again.

If Sophia really was out there, Daryl would find her. And he was certain that she still had a chance, slim as it was.

He would be going back out into the forest, and Carol intended to go with him.

"We'll find her. We will," she said, giving him a small smile.

His lips quirked up a bit at the corners, giving her his own rare smile.

"You coming with me then?"

He wasn't going to argue with her.

She was stunned again.

"That is, if you still want to? We'd have to take a horse, but it should be easy enough for us both to ride."

"Daryl."

"Yeah."

"Hold still."

"Okay?"

Before she could lose her courage, she turned to him and put her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

He went still as a statue, but he did as she had told him.

She leaned up and whispered into his ear.

"Thank you."

. . .

Daryl wouldn't have been more surprised if she had shot him.

This was much better though.

He tensed up at her touch, but after a minute he let his arms wrap lightly around her waist. He wasn't sure what to do, but it felt right enough.

And then she thanked him.

For what, he wasn't really sure. But this time, her closeness didn't make him angry. It just made him want more.

Then and there, he knew that he wanted everything with her. Whatever he could give, he would, and he prayed that she would be willing to accept him as he was.

His hands smoothed up and down her back, and he held her a little closer, enjoying how soft she felt pressed against him. He rested his cheek on top of her scruffy hair, and just let them both be for a moment.

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat and she let go.

"Let's head up to the house and see who else we can round up. It's time everyone got their asses in gear and we organized this thing."

"Okay."

He let his shoulder brush hers as they walked away, towards the farmhouse.

In the hours to come, Daryl would wish that they had never left that spot.

. . .

When he saw Shane coming, Daryl thought that the search was finally going somewhere. They would deal with the barn situation, and then everyone would be at his and Carol's disposal. They'd have Sophia back by suppertime.

And then Rick had shown up, leading a Walker like it was some kind of stray dog.

Daryl kept his gun trained on the dead man the entire way to the barn, making sure that Carol was a good way behind him too. No sense in them getting bit and letting Sophia down.

Shane lost his mind, then, and the next few minutes felt like an age.

Walker after Walker shot out of that barn, but Daryl breathed deeply and took his shots calmly. Panic would do nothing.

Finally, the dust settled and they waited, wanting to be sure the place was empty.

Hershel was on his knees in the dirt, and Rick was staring at Shane with disbelieving eyes.

Daryl kept his gun trained on the entrance to the barn, just in case.

And then he heard the most terrible sound he would hear in his entire life.

A small moan came from just inside the barn, and Daryl felt his heart stop.

. . .

After being in the dark for so long, the light hurt her eyes.

But there had been a lot of noise outside.

Noise meant food.

A breeze came in through the door, smelling of something wonderful. Lots of it.

She raised her arms to shield her eyes and stepped outside.

. . .

If Daryl lived to be a hundred—not likely—he would never forget that moment.

He had thought the world had ended before.

It could never have prepared him for how he felt when Sophia stepped out of that barn.

The little girl he'd been looking so hard for, who he'd tried to keep safe, who had wormed her way into his life, who had trusted him to always be able to protect her…

As she raised her little arms to shield her eyes from the sun, he remembered how she had once flung them around his neck, the day he'd saved her from that Walker in the car. She'd clung to him like he was the only safe harbor she had left.

Daryl felt like someone had kicked all of the air out of his lungs.

That sweet little girl would just as soon bite him now.

No more hugs, or kisses on the cheek, or thermoses full of Lipton.

No more telling stories as they kept watch, or looking at the stars, or trying to find more fireflies.

The shotgun slipped a little in his hands as they went limp.

And Sophia continued to get closer.

From behind him, he heard Carol cry out and start to run toward her baby.

Daryl dropped the gun and seized her just as she came up to him.

Not Carol too. Never Carol. Even if it meant his own death.

They sank to the ground under her momentum, and even though Daryl never took his eyes off of Sophia, he wanted nothing more than to close them and forget that he had ever known her.

It would be easier.

. . .

_Daryl had first watch that night._

_Sophia had taken to joining him, but that night she decided to sit up for a while with her mother._

_They were cuddled up together in their bunk, just talking._

"_Mommy?"_

"_Yeah baby?"_

"_Do you think you were ever Daddy's Evangeline?"_

_Sometimes, her daughter managed to surprise the hell out of her. Before, she would have distracted her from the question, but end times called for nothing but honesty._

"_No, I don't think I was. But if there's anything you need to know Sophia, especially now, it's this: life is filled with bad things. But, it has just as many good things. And we need to remember that the good things make it all worth it. And you're one of the best things. The best, actually. You're worth everything, and don't you forget it."_

_She kissed the top of her daughter's head, and Sophia put her arms around her._

"_I think Daryl could be your Ray. Or Gabriel. Whatever one you like better."_

"_You're all I need."_

"_I know. But Daryl needs us. I can tell."_

. . .

The memory of that conversation hit Carol like a ton of bricks when Sophia stepped out of that barn.

Her smart, beautiful, kind little girl was really gone.

Worse, she was a Walker.

She wasn't even resting in peace.

Carol remembered the certainty in Daryl's eyes when he had said he could feel Sophia still out there somewhere, and she felt sick. If they'd only known how close her baby really was the whole time…

For a moment, Carol dared to hope that Sophia was okay.

She looked so…normal.

And then she saw the horrible gaping wound in the girl's shoulder.

Something inside of her snapped, and she felt herself running before she had time to think about it. If she could just get close enough to make sure…

But then there was a strong arm around her waist and someone growling "Please. No. No. No."

Daryl.

It was Daryl down there in the dirt with her, holding her back, but not making her look away.

Because neither of them could.

She felt his cheek pressed to the back of her head, and knew he was at least feeling something of what she was.

Carol felt as if her sanity were slipping away with every step Sophia took towards them, and that it was only Daryl who was keeping her in the moment, making sure that she didn't turn away.

These were her precious child's last moments.

Walker or not, that was her baby.

And Carol was supposed to be there for the end, no matter what.

. . .

Daryl nearly got sick over the horrible relief that washed over him when Rick pulled the trigger.

Carol was making incoherent noises as she sank to the dirt, howling her daughter's name over and over.

Neither of them had taken their eyes off of Sophia the entire time.

Daryl felt that he owed her that much, at least, since he had failed her.

Sophia's body dropped to the ground, and he wished he could scream right along with Carol.

. . .

She didn't know how long they stayed there, on their knees in the Georgia dirt.

But next time she moved, the sun was getting lower in the sky and the others were long gone.

They'd taken all of the other bodies to be buried.

When Rick had come back for Sophia, she had screamed at him to leave please just go away. He'd looked sick, but he'd done it.

Daryl had never left her side, and his arm had never moved from its place around her.

For a long time, he had been running a soothing hand up and down her back, saying "I'm sorry" again and again.

He should never have to apologize to her. Not ever. Not when he'd done so much.

She knew what they had to do next.

Her heartache could wait.

It wasn't fair to Sophia to leave her lying there like carrion.

Carol took a deep breath and forced herself to sit up.

Daryl was right there to steady her as she swayed and her muscles protested the movement.

She leaned back into him and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

"Help me?"

He knew what she meant.

Daryl rose to his feet, helped her up, and then knelt down once more to take Sophia into his arms.

He carried her little girl out to the small clearing just beyond the swimming hole while Carol went to find a couple of shovels and a sheet.

. . .

Daryl laid Sophia down by the water and looked back toward the camp.

In the distance, he could see Dale handing Carol a sheet. It looked like he was offering to help, but she just shook her head sadly and patted his arm. She started to head Daryl's way.

He leaned down and ran his fingers through Sophia's hair.

"I'm so sorry baby girl."

He couldn't say anything more; the lump in his throat forced him to stop.

Carol came up then, and handed him a shovel, keeping one for herself.

"On the edge of the forest?" he asked. It was right by the Cherokee roses, and if any fireflies were going to come visit Sophia, that was the best spot for it.

She nodded and they got to work. There wasn't much daylight left, so they would have to work quickly.

. . .

They dug just deep enough so that nothing could get at her.

Daryl helped Carol up and out of the grave. He spread the sheet she had brought out on the ground, and Carol sat down by her daughter one last time.

"You want me to give you a minute?"

She looked up at him, and wondered again at how he could think he had no place in that moment. He was the only other person she wanted with her just then.

"No. Please stay. She'd want you to."

He knelt down by her, and Carol straightened her daughter's clothes as best she could. She could feel Daryl's hand, just hovering over her shoulder, offering silent support.

Carol combed her hands through Sophia's hair, gently working out the knots. There wasn't much she could do about her forehead though.

Daryl went over to the water and dipped the rag he always carried into it.

"Can you hold her up?"

Carol scooped Sophia up, and Daryl dabbed the rag at her forehead with a trembling hand.

"If you lean her forward some, I can get at her shoulder," he said, his voice thick with grief.

Tears were pouring from Carol's eyes again. She couldn't help it, especially in the face of his gentleness.

He cleaned Sophia's shoulder as much as possible, and then put the rag through one of Sophia's belt loops. They both knew he couldn't keep it now.

Daryl looked at Carol, asking silent permission. She nodded and he took Sophia up into his arms and laid her out on the sheet.

They wrapped her up, but not before Carol took Sophia's doll and tucked it into her arms.

"She never let it go before. Seems only right she should have her little friend with her."

Daryl sucked in a watery breath.

"You got anything you wanna say?"

Carol put a hand over where Sophia's heart was.

"I love you honey. I hope you can sleep well now."

She couldn't say anything else, because what else was there to say? There was no way to sum up the person Sophia had been, and what she had meant, in just a few words.

Between the two of them, they laid her down in the grave.

"She looks so tiny," Carol whispered.

Daryl choked back a sob, and she grabbed his hand.

Behind them, someone cleared their throat.

They turned, and there was everyone in camp.

She and Daryl had been so caught up in their grief that they hadn't noticed the others' approach.

Rick came forward. He was holding some wildflowers, as was everyone else.

His eyes sought hers, and she nodded.

One by one, they went and scooped dirt into the grave, and put in their flowers.

Rick went last, and completed the mound, placing his bouquet on top. Carol stood by his side; she hadn't taken her eyes from the hole, watching as the dirt covered her only child.

"I'm sorry Carol," he whispered. "So damn sorry."

She squeezed his arm.

"Thank you. For ending it. I…I couldn't have."

They both broke down in earnest, but didn't turn to each other. He went to Lori, and she went to Daryl. They were friends, always would be, but the closeness between them would never be the same again.

Daryl's arms came around her without hesitation, and she knew no more.

. . .

Daryl carried her back to the RV and laid her down in the bunk.

He went into the bathroom and got some wet wipes to clean them both up. He took care of Carol first, and then himself. He climbed into bed next to her, even though he didn't think he was going to sleep.

Daryl was beyond exhausted, but he would not close his eyes. He knew he would see nothing but Sophia, and he didn't want to right now. He'd seen enough.

As he stretched himself out next to Carol, he kept thinking that it might not have been so bad if Sophia hadn't still looked so much like herself. But for the wound in her shoulder, and her milky eyes, she still looked like the girl he had come to love like his own.

He had never wanted to be someone's father, or husband, but Carol and Sophia had been knocking down his walls one by one. Somehow, they were his kin.

And he'd let them both down.

Sleep took him after awhile, despite his determination not to let it.

He dreamed of Sophia's blond hair shining in the sun.

. . .

The next morning, Carol opened her eyes and for a moment she didn't remember.

She turned on her side, and smiled up at Daryl, who was already awake.

And saw the sadness in his eyes.

It all came back.

Carol buried her face in his chest and let the grief take her.

. . .

They went to visit Sophia after breakfast.

"I'm gonna gather some rocks later, make this more secure," Daryl said.

"Thank you."

Carol took his hand, and pressed it.

"Thank you for everything Daryl."

She was hurting so much, but she really was grateful to have him by her side, and she did feel marginally better after he had let her sob earlier that morning.

"I wasn't able to say it yesterday, but you deserve to know something. Don't take it the wrong way, either."

"Okay."

"When I said that you did more for Sophia than her own father ever had, I meant it. And I want you to know that, Ed might have been Sophia's father, but you… well, she was your little girl too. She thought of you that way, and I think you should know it."

His jaw was set, but trembling. He looked away after a moment, but Carol could see that he was pleased.

. . .

The rest of the day passed in a haze.

Carol still did her share of the chores; anything to take her mind off of the little mound on that hill, as much as that was possible. Lori had seemed surprised, and had tried to engage her in conversation, but Carol wasn't up for talking. She still loved Lori, and Rick, and Carl, but the only person she felt she could stand speaking to was Daryl.

And he wasn't around for most of the day.

After they had made Sophia's grave more secure, he had gone off into the woods to hunt. Hershel probably wasn't going to help them out with food or anything else anymore, so they would need as much as Daryl could find for them.

She wished she had been able to go with him.

Carol was sick of feeling helpless. Maybe Daryl would continue to teach her things. She wanted to learn how to hunt, and to protect the camp better. To watch out for Daryl. If he had her back, she would make damn sure she had his. She didn't know exactly when, but she wanted to ask him if he would teach her how to fire his crossbow. They could stop at a hunting goods store somewhere too, and get her set up with gear of her own.

For now, though, she was mostly numb. She did her chores mindlessly, and wanted nothing more for the time being than to go back to sleep and forget.

That wasn't likely.

. . .

Daryl kept himself busy and away from camp for as long as he could.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be around Carol; he wanted that more than anything, especially now.

But every time he looked her way, he got all misty eyed like some damn woman.

He was not going to cry.

Because if he did, it would be like admitting defeat. As long as he kept his guilt and hurt to himself, it was a little less real.

Daryl looked at the forest around him, and was reminded of the beginning to _Evangeline_, and how he'd read to Sophia about that primeval forest.

And then he remembered how the story ended. Not the part where Gabriel died, but how, after everything, he had remembered Evangeline as she was. And how it had brought him peace.

Sophia had brought him a measure of peace as well. He had dreamed of her the night before, and she had been smiling and so lovely, as she had been in life.

Daryl didn't really believe in heaven, but he figured that if anyone would be there, it would be Sophia.

He wasn't sure how to make things better for Carol, but he had never finished the story with her; it was a start, and he thought she would like it.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, so it was time to head back to camp anyway.

. . .

Carol didn't want to try to sleep without Daryl by her side, so she fixed them some tea and went to keep watch with him.

They stood on the roof of the RV, eyes drawn to the spot where Sophia was. Carol couldn't keep her eyes from it for very long. Daryl drew up a chair for her, and took a seat by her side, his eyes scanning the area, making sure there no approaching threats.

His quiet presence soothed her more than she thought was possible.

"Hey."

His voice brought her back into the moment, out of her thoughts.

She looked at him, and he was watching her now, with a soft look in his eyes.

"I never did finish _Evangeline_ with you, did I?"

The question threw her for a bit of a loop; it was just about the last thing she'd been expecting to hear.

"No. But Sophia told me how it ends. Gabriel dies, but he and Evangeline do find each other, at least."

"Yeah. But, there's more to it. Just before she finds him, he's dreaming of her. Of how beautiful and good she was, because it's how he's always gonna see her, no matter what. And he sees her, walking in a meadow, all peaceful."

He paused for a moment, wet his lips, and then recited the words from memory.

"Then he beheld, in a dream once more the home of his childhood; green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under their shadow, as in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision."

He stopped a moment to clear his throat, and the tears that were standing in his eyes started to fall.

"I think that, if anyone gets to go to that forest, and be at peace, it's gonna be Sophia."

Carol was crying too.

She would try. Try to remember Sophia as she had been, and not the way things had ended. Try to be strong, so that in the end she could follow her girl into that forest. Try to do right by Daryl, too, because it was about time that someone took care of him.

Carol leaned into him and rested her forehead against his. He sucked in a breath, and she could feel the tears on his cheeks mix with her own. She kissed him softly, and he pressed his lips to hers in return.

Whatever they would be facing, from now on they would face it together.

. . . . .

A/N: I make a habit of listening to music when I'm writing, so I thought I would share some of the songs that I had playing as I drafted and composed this story. All of these remind me of this couple in some way, so I suppose it's a fanmix of sorts as well. Enjoy!

"Bad Moon Rising," The Creedence Clearwater Revival

"Georgia On My Mind," Ray Charles

"Lost," Michael Buble

"Walk the Line," Johnny Cash

"Stand By Me," Ben E. King

"You and I," Lady Gaga

"Somewhere Only We Know," Keane

"Blue Moon of Kentucky," Bill Monroe

"Crazy," Patsy Cline

"Sweet Child of Mine," Guns N' Roses

"Awake My Soul," Mumford and Sons

"Ever the Same," Rob Thomas

"Name," The Goo Goo Dolls

"Ain't No Sunshine," Bill Withers

"500 Miles," The Proclaimers

"Make You Feel My Love," Billy Joel

"Let My Love Open the Door," Pete Townshend

"The Cave," Mumford and Sons

"The Edge of Glory," Lady Gaga

"The Long and Winding Road," The Beatles

"Little Lion Man," Mumford and Sons

"Come Back to Me," David Cook

"After the Storm," Mumford and Sons

"Wanted (Dead or Alive)," Bon Jovi

"Fire and Rain," James Taylor

"Mr. Tambourine Man," Bob Dylan

"Ma Belle Evangeline," Jim Cummings


	14. Nebraska

A/N: Although the hiatus wasn't very long, it sure felt like forever! Very glad to be back, and looking forward to what the rest of the season has in store.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, or messaged me.

I own nothing!

**Chapter Fourteen: Nebraska**

Carol was sitting in the back of the RV, mending one of Daryl's shirts, when it happened.

In an unusually clumsy moment, he tripped as he was walking into the small cabin and slammed right into the corner cabinet.

The door, which Dale had warned them about many a time but never bothered to fix, flew open, and all of Sophia's old things came tumbling out.

"Shit," Daryl mumbled.

They both knelt down and began to go through the items.

Carol hadn't touched that cabinet since that awful day that Sophia went missing. She hadn't had the heart to, not even when she had cleaned the RV from top to bottom.

There were several blouses and pairs of pants, all of which Sophia had been on the verge of outgrowing. Carol picked up a pair of sneakers and sucked in a watery breath when she noticed the DVD that Daryl had sent Glenn looking for among the rest of the mess.

They were all supposed to watch it together.

But Sophia had never come back, not really. What they had buried hadn't been her little girl. Sophia was still lost out in the woods somewhere. And Carol didn't think there was any romance to it, or anything Evangeline about it, despite the words of comfort that Daryl had tried to offer her.

For so long, his presence had been a comfort to her, the only thing that had kept her spirits up in what had been the darkest time of her life. But now it was too much. She had been foolish to pull him into her life, silly to encourage his affection, and stupid to kiss him. If she lost him, if the same fate that Sophia had met came to him too…

The DVD slipped from her fingers and she shoved all of Sophia's old things aside. She went to sit at the kitchenette, to breathe and to get away from Daryl.

For once, he wasn't able to read her though, and followed her. He sat on the counter, watching her and waiting.

Well, he could wait all he wanted.

She was done. Done hoping for something better, for safety, for a life with this man who had come to mean so much to her.

Because at the end of the day, all you were left with was a cabinet of useless junk and an empty space that had once been taken up by the most important person that had ever happened to you.

. . .

Daryl watched Carol for a while, but she wouldn't even look at him. He didn't really know what to say, so he didn't talk or try to offer empty words of comfort.

He wasn't really sure what she was feeling at the moment. She'd been…well, not exactly okay, but he thought she had been coping as well as she could.

He wished he had cleaned out that cabinet days ago though, when Carol hadn't been around. Daryl could have spared her this moment, this renewed pain.

Maybe she would feel better if they went to see Sophia?

"You been out to visit yet today?"

For a moment, he didn't think she was going to answer, but then she just shrugged.

"Why bother?"

Daryl did not like where this was going.

"Cause that's your little girl."

"That's not my little girl. It's some other…thing. My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought: She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."

Daryl felt something hot and hateful come to life in his chest.

How the hell could she even say that? After everything they had been through trying to get Sophia back, and burying and mourning her together?

He felt a fool now for kissing her the night before. He should have known she was just looking for some comfort, and he'd just been the only person around who might understand.

She was looking out the window again, ignoring him.

Before he could say anything he might regret, he got up and stalked out of the RV leaving her with the mess.

. . .

Looking down at the little cairn, Daryl felt his anger fall away.

Carol had been talking out of hurt.

She'd come around.

Maybe.

But in the meantime, he'd be on his own, mourning a little girl that hadn't been his, no matter how he wanted things to be, and hating that he hadn't been able to bring her home.

"It's not your fault Daryl."

Sophia was standing to his right, looking down on the small pile of stones and the roses he had placed on top.

Now he had another ghost.

"Course it's my fucking fault. I went on ahead, I let you outta my sight, and I wasn't fast enough to find you and bring you home."

"None of that matters. That Walker got me not long after Rick left me by the riverbed."

Daryl hung his head, feeling sick.

Her little hand found his, and she pressed their palms together.

"She'll come around. Just give her time."

Daryl shrugged her off and walked away to go get his bow.

Might as well go hunting.

The group would need food and he wasn't going to sit around while he slowly lost his mind.

. . .

Carol watched Daryl walk away from the grave, looking even angrier than he had when he had left the RV.

She walked over to the small pile of stones and sat on the ground in front of it.

Daryl had been so careful building the cairn, and he'd planted some Cherokee roses at the foot of it. He'd even taken the time to carve a small cross with Sophia's name and dates on it. It had been a labor of love.

But the thing in the ground beneath it wouldn't have been able to appreciate that. This memorial was for Sophia, not for the monster that had come stumbling out of that barn.

Carol looked again at the Cherokee rose in front of her, reaching out to touch the petals. She'd had such hope…

Then anger took her again.

The same anger she'd felt when she'd asked Daryl for the ax hit her full force. An enraged cry left her and she moved before she could really think about what she was doing.

She seized the plant and tore it up, roots and all, her hands shredding the flowers. The rest of them would have to go too. One by one, she worked her way around the swimming hole, tearing the roses to pieces.

They wouldn't be blooming for anyone anymore.

. . .

Daryl heard Carol cry out just as he was picking up his bow.

He took off, running in the direction the sound had come from.

The grave; Carol was by the grave.

He got there just as she stumbled off to the edge of the forest, but he didn't call after her when he saw the devastation she had left in her wake.

Every single rose had been ripped to pieces, the plants torn out of the ground. The one he'd planted by Sophia had taken the brunt of things, and the cross he had spent hours whittling had been smashed to pieces.

The only reason the stones were still in place was because they had been too heavy for Carol to lift.

Daryl felt sick.

For the moment, he decided to let Carol be. Obviously, she wasn't in a good place, and he knew he'd be next to useless for her in the state she was in.

He put his crossbow down and knelt down to clean up the mess.

It took him well over an hour, but he picked up every single petal and put them around the grave.

When he was done, he went off to find some more wood to make a new marker.

. . .

In the end, Daryl found enough timber to make ten crosses if he had to. He'd keep them close by, in case Carol took it into mind again to trash things.

He wandered off, almost to the edge of the property, and took a seat by the old chimney there.

Sophia was with him again, but she wasn't talking. She sat next to him and watched as he began to whittle the stick to a sharp point. He'd make sure it went deep into the ground next time.

Lori found him like that a couple of hours later.

He didn't know what she was doing there, and he didn't much care.

"Movin' to the suburbs?"

Daryl didn't dignify that with a response.

"Listen, Beth's in some kinda catatonic shock; we need Hershel."

The girl'd been messed up since her mother nearly bit her the day before. Looks like she was worse off then he'd thought, but he didn't see how it had anything to do with him.

"Yeah? So what?"

"So I need you to run into town real quick and bring Rick back."

He didn't say anything again. If Rick was off looking for Hershel, he'd be back soon enough. Daryl had more important things to do.

Sophia was silent, watching the exchange between the two.

"Daryl."

Couldn't the woman take a damn hint?

He finally looked up at her, letting his annoyance show loud and clear.

"Your bitch went window shoppin'. You want 'im fetch 'im yourself. I got better things to do."

"What's the matter with you? Why would you be so selfish?"

He shot to his feet then, really pissed off. Daryl was many things, but he had never had the luxury of being selfish, and this bitch had no right tellin' him so.

"Selfish? Listen to me, Olive Oyl, I was out lookin' for that little girl every single day! I took a bullet and an arrow in the process! Don't you tell me I haven't been gettin' my hands dirty! You want those two idiots have a nice ride!"

He sat down again, fuming, but forced himself to return to his task.

Sophia was looking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet her big blue eyes.

"I'm done lookin' for people," he mumbled.

Lori stalks off and his knife carves away another layer of bark.

Sophia puts a gentle hand on his leg, offering him comfort he doesn't think he deserves.


	15. Triggerfinger

A/N: I'm nervous about this chapter. The Daryl/Carol stuff in this episode was so well done, that the chapter you are about to read is laughable in comparison. However, I've tried my level best to get inside Daryl's head for this one. Please let me know what you all think.

Thank you to everyone I've heard from, and to those who have read.

I own nothing!

**Chapter Fifteen: Triggerfinger**

Daryl spent the rest of the day trying to check his temper.

He set up his tent again, as he had no intention of leaving his new camp. Carol didn't want him around, so he'd stay away. He should get used to being on his own again anyway.

The squirrels he had caught that morning he hung on strings along the edge of the clearing. He stuck the ear necklace up there too, in case anyone came over with half a mind to piss him off. Daryl figured it would shut them up pretty quick.

Next he made a circle of stones, so that he could have a fire going once it got dark.

His work done, he took a seat at his new fireplace and stared off into nothing.

Every time he blinked he saw Carol's hands, shoving him away, shunning his comfort. He saw the mess she had made of Sophia's grave, and the slack look that had come into her eyes from the moment he had tripped and spilled Sophia's things all over the floor of the RV.

And every time he blinked, Daryl got angrier, because when he opened his eyes again, Sophia was still there, his new little shadow. She just kept looking at him, like everything was fine.

Like Carol wasn't done with him.

Like he wasn't to blame for what had happened.

Like he wasn't alone.

"What the hell you keep starin' at me for?"

"I'm just keeping an eye on you. If you're gonna be stubborn and sit by yourself, then I'll just have to watch out for you."

"I don't need you."

She placed her tiny hand on his arm.

"I think you do."

He shot to his feet, angrily shaking off her hand.

"You're not my fucking kid! I don't need you, and I don't need anyone. So just leave me be."

Sophia's thoughtful expression didn't change one bit as she got up and walked away and into the woods.

. . .

He was still pissed off when Carol found him later that night, sitting by the fire.

Sophia hadn't come back, and he was torn between relief and a desperate need to see her again, which was doing nothing for his temper.

He barely looked up as Carol came over. Might as well get used to being strangers again.

"We can't find Lori. And the others aren't back yet either."

"Dumb bitch musta gone off lookin' for him."

"What?"

"Yeah. She asked me to go. Told her I was done bein' an errand boy."

Daryl wasn't looking up at her, but he knew Carol was frowning at him.

"And you didn't say anything?"

He stared into the fire, hoping she would just go away. It wasn't his problem. These people weren't his problem, and Carol had made it damn clear that she didn't want to be his problem either. Left him without a whole lotta trouble.

Carol walked away, finally, and he thought maybe he was free, but then she saw his tent.

Her steps faltered and she came back his way.

"Don't do this. Please. I've already lost my girl."

No.

She did not get to play that card.

He got to his feet and into her personal space, growling his next words:

"Yeah, that wasn't my problem neither."

Daryl stalked off, leaving her alone in the dark, and telling himself that he didn't give a shit.

. . .

Daryl bit back a curse when he got back to his camp only to find that Carol was still there, and looking at his necklace.

For a moment, he felt a hot flush come into his face, but he got a hold of himself. Those were his trophies, and nothing to be ashamed of. Let her think what she would.

He just wanted her to go, and leave him in peace.

"What're you doin'?"

"Keepin' an eye on you."

Those were the same words that Sophia had said to him before he told her off. And damn if they weren't like a punch to the gut. He shouldn't have yelled at the kid, but he didn't know what else to do.

He got angry again, though, because wasn't this a funny turn of events. He'd spent so long watching her, and trying to be there for her, that he'd never considered he needed looking after. He could look after himself just fine, after all.

Carol was just here out of guilt. She wasn't all bad, so she probably felt sorry for pushing him away, even if it was what she wanted.

He circled around her until he came to face her.

"Ain't you a peach."

She held her chin up, the look on her face the same one she had worn when she had taken the ax to her dead husband's skull. Whatever she was here for, she was not about to back down, or to lose her temper with him.

This woman had to go.

One second she was shoving him away, and the next she was keeping an eye on him?

If she couldn't make up her damn mind, he'd do it for her. He would do what he should have done from the beginning: hurt her so bad she'd never even wanna look at him again. He didn't want what she had to give, not anymore.

It hurt too fucking much.

And it confused the shit out of him.

So he said what he had to.

"If you spent half your time mindin' your daughter's business instead of sticking your nose in everyone else's she'd still be alive!"

Carol bit her lip.

Her eyes were already shining with tears, but she wasn't letting them fall.

"Go ahead."

"Go ahead and what."

Their eyes met, and he knew she wanted him to be angry. She needed someone to blame her as much as she did herself.

The thought didn't take the wind out of sails.

It just pissed him off more.

If it was what she needed, he would be very happy to oblige.

"Hey just go! I don't want you here."

Daryl stepped into her personal space again, holding his finger up to her face.

"You're a real piece of work, lady. What, are you gonna make this about my brother or some crap like that?"

He huffed out a breath. Merle hadn't made him an angry person; life had.

She had, in her way.

"Man, you don't know jack."

He got closer, growling his next words right into her pretty little face.

"You're afraid. You're afraid cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter; you don't know what to do with yourself. And you ain't my problem."

He was really building up steam now, and decided he might as well finish things, and just tell her what had been weighing on his mind since his girl had come stumbling out of that barn.

"Sophia wasn't mine!"

The words ripped through his chest, and his throat hurt from the force of his voice.

"All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"

Daryl had finally gone too far, because she flinched as soon as the words had left his mouth.

He wouldn't regret them.

He wouldn't.

They were true.

It was all true.

Daryl backed off, suddenly exhausted.

Carol pressed her lips together and breathed in deeply through her nose, still refusing to let the tears fall. Her wet eyes met his and they stared hard at each other for a moment.

Her face, which he could usually read like a book, was closed to him now.

She walked away though, and there was an end to it.

Daryl turned and went again to sit by the fire.

If Rick wasn't back by morning, he would go out with Shane.

He didn't really give a damn; he just wanted to keep pulling his weight.

Sophia came to him again not long after, but she refused to look at him.

Daryl felt sick.


	16. 18 Miles Out

A/N: First, I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Since we didn't actually see Carol or Daryl in this episode, I was waiting for the next one so I could figure out just what I should do.

And oh boy did "Judge, Jury, Executioner" ever deliver.

Since that chapter is going to be angsty enough, this one will be somewhat lighter and shorter. Daryl got lots of attention last time, so now it's Carol's turn! Also, there's some Dale here, because I think we all need some Dale goodness right now.

Also, this chapter is for KajaM, since her grandmother is feeling better. Hope you enjoy!

I own nothing.

**Chapter Sixteen: 18 Miles Out**

Carol shook out the bed sheet with more force than she had intended to.

But she was the only one doing anything around the camp that day, and it irked her.

Lori and Andrea were too busy up at the house, debating the current state of feminism in their post apocalyptic society. Carol felt that everyone should just be given the chance to do what suited them best, but she couldn't help but note that, while they were busy being high minded, she was the only one doing any actual work.

Someone was still going to have to do the damn laundry.

She figured Daryl probably wasn't lazing about, either, but since he'd been avoiding her like the plague for the last few days, she didn't expect to see him around.

In a way, she was grateful he had been so harsh to her. She hadn't liked the things he had said, but it had been so refreshing not to be treated with kid gloves.

Since Sophia's funeral, everyone had been treating her like she was made of glass.

So maybe she'd been…off…lately.

But she had lost her daughter.

Carol figured she was allowed to be just a little bit out of sorts, at the very least.

Still, no one really talked to her anymore. They all just stared at her, with the same sad look on their faces.

Dale was the only one who was still speaking to her on a regular basis, but it was only when they were the only ones left in the RV at night.

If Carol had to hear one more speech of comfort, well meant or otherwise, she really was going to lose her mind.

She shook out another sheet, snapping it viciously.

. . .

Dinner came and went, and Carol found herself sitting by Sophia's grave just as the sun was beginning to set.

Daryl had fixed the mess she had made, and even set up a new marker. He could say he didn't care all he wanted. It was clear that he felt otherwise.

Carol sat down, looking at her little girl's name and dates. Such a small span of time between them, and yet so much had changed in that time.

There were so many things that Sophia could have done with her life, and the possibility of the person her daughter could have been was going to haunt her for the rest of her days.

She heard a twig snapping and jumped up in surprise.

"Sorry there, Carol. Didn't mean to scare you."

Dale.

Not exactly the person she had been hoping to see, but he wasn't…unwelcome. Carol's thoughts had been getting too morose for her liking.

"It's okay."

Dale took a seat next to her, and both of their eyes settled on the roses that Daryl had replanted.

"Have you talked to him?"

"No. He's avoiding me."

"He's hurting too."

"I know."

"How are you, Carol? Really?"

"I'm…okay, I suppose. I'm here, at any rate."

"Yes, you are. Glad to hear you remember that."

She looked over at Dale, and he was watching her now.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that… well, you're still here. What's happened is horrible, and I have no real idea of what you're going through, but you're still alive, Carol."

"Doesn't feel like it some days."

"No, it doesn't. But…"

"Yeah?"

He sighed, and faced forward again. His eyes took on a more distant look.

"When my wife died, I thought I was done. She'd been my entire life for so long, that I just didn't want to know what it would be like without her. I started drinking, and thought that if I was very lucky, I'd be able to drink myself to death.

"But I was wrong to do that. I was at the bar one night, and this man came to sit by me. He was one of those Bob Dylan types; you know, dusty boots, whiskey voice, weary soul?"

"Yeah, I'd say I know someone a lot like that," she said, smiling at him.

Dale smiled back and went on.

"Well, we got to talking, and before I knew it, I had told him everything. How Joan had taken sick, and what it was like, seeing her slipping away little by little and not being able to do a thing. I told him I wanted to die, too. That I was just so damn tired."

He paused for a moment, cleared his throat.

"And then he told me to cut the shit. He said that was no way to honor what Joan had gone through, that the point of going through something so awful and surviving that tragedy was to learn from it. If I hadn't learned anything from it, then Joan had died for nothing."

Carol didn't know what to say to that.

"I was pretty pissed off at first, but it wasn't too long after that I realized he was right. I had lost my Joanie, but that didn't mean that I couldn't still take something away from what happened. She had her life taken from her, and if anything it was my job to realize that I had to live for the both of us. For every moment that had been taken from her, I had to live, really live, so that I could honor her life."

For a long time, neither of them said anything.

Carol didn't think that she could exactly do what Dale had, but she saw his point. Instead of thinking about the maybes of Sophia's life, she had to find the realities of her own.

She needed to toughen up, so she could make her girl proud. She would grit her teeth, and do her best to see this thing through to the end, whatever the end was going to be.

Carol stood and brushed the dirt from her pants. Leaning down, she put a hand on Dale's shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you."

. . .

Daryl finished loading up his bow and slung it over is shoulder.

Rick and Shane still hadn't made it back, but they could have just been trying to find as clear an area as possible to turn the kid loose in.

He wasn't worried.

Yet.

In the meantime, someone had to go find some food.

Daryl took one last look around his little camp site, making sure that all was as it should be before he left.

If he was honest with himself, he missed having Sophia around. Even if she was haunting him. Ever since he'd had it out with Carol his new little shadow hadn't bothered to show up.

But then he looked up and there, she was, standing at the edge of the forest.

He tried to tell himself that this was beyond fucked up, and that he shouldn't be happy to see her again.

When he reached the tree line though, he ruffled her hair and she followed him into the woods.


	17. Judge, Jury, Executioner

A/N: This episode was so good, that this chapter was really, really tough to write.

Lots of Daryl in this chapter, since this was a really big episode for him, especially the moment at the end!

Many thanks to everyone for their kind words and thoughtful discussion throughout this story. I really appreciate it.

This chapter is for beneath the stars, reviewer extraordinaire! Thank you, a thousand times thank you. It has been so lovely talking to you! And of course I hope you stick around for more!

**Chapter Seventeen: Judge, Jury, Executioner**

Daryl was showing Sophia how to sharpen a knife when Rick came into his little makeshift camp.

They nodded their greetings, and Rick took a seat by Daryl.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

Sophia seemed to sense that, whatever it was, she wouldn't much care to hear it, so she stood and found her way back to the forest, leaving Daryl alone with the former sheriff.

"What do you need?"

. . .

Daryl didn't think it would take too long for the kid to start cracking. He'd nearly pissed himself when Daryl had walked in the door.

It wasn't that he particularly wanted to do this, but some things just needed doing. And Daryl always did what he had to do, especially when it came to surviving. This kid could be a threat, so he needed to get some information.

He wasn't talking just yet though, so Daryl hit him a little harder.

Finally, the fragile wall the kid had built up started to crack.

"I told you!"

"You told me shit!" Daryl growled, hitting him again.

"I barely knew those guys! I met 'em on the road!"

"How many in your group?"

Daryl pulled his knife out of its sheath, and tried not to think of his earlier lesson with Sophia. She wouldn't like this.

Randall was muttering no over and over, ending with a "C'mon man!"

Daryl plunged his knife into the ground by the prisoner's leg.

"How many!"

Randall made a few more panicked sounds before he finally spilled:

"Thirty guys!"

"Where?"

"Uh, uh…"

Daryl pushed the leg of Randall's pants up and ripped off the tape and gauze that Hershel had used to cover his wound.

"I don't know! We were never in any place more n' a night!"

"Scoutin'? Plannin' on stayin' local?"

"I don't know! They left me behind!"

Clearly, he was going to have to push the kid a little harder.

He picked up the knife and rested it against Randall's wound.

"You ever pick off a scab?"

"C'mon man! I'm tryin' to cooperate!"

Daryl pressed the knife into his skin just a little bit harder.

"Start real slow at first but sooner or later you just gotta rip it off."

"Okay! Okay. They have weapons. Heavy stuff. Automatics."

Daryl was going to need a little more than that. He pushed the tip of the knife into the kid's skin.

"But I didn't do anything!"

"Your boys shot at my boys. Tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride. You tryin' to tell me you're innocent!"

"Yes! These people took me in. Not just guys. A whole group of 'em. Men and women, kids too. Just like you people. Thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know?"

Daryl stood again and began to pace. He was thinking of kind blue eyes, and a soft voice telling him he was a good man. He had some idea of what the punk was talking about.

Randall started talking again, and Daryl realized that, stray or no, this kid was nothing like him or his people.

"We'd go out, scavenge. Just the men. One night we… we found this little campsite, a man and his two daughters. Teenagers, you know? Real young, real cute."

Daryl's stomach dropped. He had a sick feeling he knew just what the kid was about to say.

"The daddy had to watch while these guys, they… and they didn't even kill 'im afterwards. They just… they just made 'im watch."

Daryl was nothing like this sad little puke. He wanted to hit him again, and he was pretty sure he would enjoy it this time.

"His daughters… just… just left 'im there… No, no, b-but I… I didn't touch those girls, I swear, I didn't…"

Daryl kicked him, right where he'd been digging the knife into his skin.

"Please! Please, you gotta believe me, man! I'm not like that! I ain't like that. Please. Please, you gotta believe me."

Daryl was thinking of Sophia and Carol, and thanking whoever or whatever might be listening that they'd come his way, and not someone else's. If Carol ever…

He shook the thought off, and punched Randall again.

. . .

Everyone was around the fire when Daryl made his way back to their camp. He saw Carol hanging back from the group, and she met his eyes across the distance. He felt his chest constrict again, thinking about what could happen to her if those other people found their camp.

He forced his eyes away from her and gave his report to Rick.

"Your boy there's got a gang. Thirty men. Got heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna wish they were."

He could feel Carol's always on him again. He could always feel the quiet weight of her gaze.

So her soft voice speaking next came as no surprise.

"What did you do?"

"We had a little chat."

Rick started talking about getting rid of the threat and Daryl did his best to ignore Carol's watchful eyes.

. . .

Carol slipped the small jar of salve Daryl had once given her into the pile of laundry he'd be taking back to his camp, along with a little note.

She came back out of the RV and handed him the pile, not quite meeting his eyes. He mumbled a thanks and went on his way.

The thought of him torturing that kid made her feel sick, but she figured he had just done what he had to. There had been no pride or satisfaction in his face when he had mentioned their "chat."

She took her eyes off of Daryl's retreating form and noticed Dale was watching him too, with a determined look on his face.

. . .

Daryl put the laundry down in his tent when a small jar fell out of the folds of one of his shirts.

It was the salve he'd given Carol, to help with her hands.

There was a piece of paper wrapped around it, which he carefully unfolded.

_Looks like your need is greater than mine right now._

He tucked the piece of paper into his shirt pocket and set the jar down. He'd make sure to use the stuff once he got back from his hunt.

Sophia was outside his tent waiting for him.

"You ain't got nothin' else better to do?"

She shrugged.

"Not really. Besides, I like keeping an eye on you when you're out there."

"Not much help though. Somethin' happens to me it's not like you can tell anyone, kid."

She smiled at him, and it was a little unnerving.

"But if I'm with you, nothing will happen. The forest is mine now."

"What?"

Before she could explain further, Dale showed up, looking like he wanted something. Daryl thought he knew just what it was, and couldn't fathom why Dale would come to him first. He must be really desperate for an ally.

"Whole point of me comin' up here is to get away from you people."

"Gonna take more than that."

"Carol send you?"

"Carol's not the only one who's concerned about you, your new role in the group."

"I don't need my head shrunk. This group's broken. I'm better off fendin' for myself."

"You're actin' like you don't care."

"That's 'cause I don't."

Sophia let out a huff, and mumbled "As if." Daryl tried not to look at her.

"So, live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?"

"Nope."

"Then why don't you stand with me, try to save the kid's life, if it really doesn't matter one way or the other?"

Daryl remembered what Randall had told him about those girls, and figured he'd probably like to see the kid dead. But he didn't feel like getting tangled up in politics. Let others decide; he would go out to find some food instead. Besides, no one would listen to him anyway.

"I didn't peg you for a desperate sumbitch."

"Your opinion makes a difference."

"Man, ain't nobody gonna be lookin' at me for nothin'."

Daryl turned and began to walk away. Sophia had run on ahead and was waiting for him.

"Carol is! And I am, right now."

He turned to look back at the older man. It wasn't fair to drag Carol into this, not as a bargaining chip.

"And obviously you have Rick's ear."

Yeah, whenever he needed some dirty work done.

"Rick just looks to Shane. Let 'im."

He turned to leave again, hoping that was the end of the conversation, but the old man wasn't giving up. Usually, that was why Daryl kind of liked him, but at the moment it was just pissing him off.

"You cared about what happened to Sophia. Cared what it meant to the group."

Daryl's eyes found the girl's again. He had cared about her, and it hadn't done her a lick of good. She was still dead, and he was still losing his mind, talking to a goddamn ghost.

He turned and walked back to Dale again. It was time to end the conversation, before he said something he would probably regret.

But Dale wasn't finished with him yet.

"Torturing people? That isn't you. You're a decent man! So is Rick. Shane… is different."

Carol's voice came to him then, telling him he was just as good as Shane and Rick.

Dale thought he was better than Shane. He thought he was decent.

Daryl still had to say it though:

"Why's that? 'Cause he killed Otis?"

Dale's eyes widened.

"Did he tell you that?"

"He told some story. How Otis covered him, saved his ass. He showed up with the dead guy's gun. Rick ain't stupid. You don't figure that out it's 'cause you don't wanna. Like I said: group's broken."

Daryl turned and really left that time, not bothering to look back.

. . .

Sophia helped him snag a couple of squirrels, but he didn't think they were going to find anything else.

The forest was way too quiet.

"Something's wrong here today," Sophia said, casting an uneasy glance around.

"Not much noise. It ain't right."

She nodded, lips pursed.

"There's something bad coming. I don't know what, exactly, but things are going to go bad. Soon."

"How can you not know? Thought you said the forest was yours."

"Yeah, but it's all still pretty new to me. Still working out the kinks."

"Why you gotta work them out with me?"

"Because my mom needs you, and you need her. I can't have anything happen to you if that's the case, now can I?"

"Your mom's doin' just fine without me," he growled.

Sophia looked up at him, unblinking.

"No, she's not."

. . .

Carol put _Evangeline_ in her bag, intending to go sit by Sophia for a spell and read to her. She'd been worrying about Daryl ever since he'd gone off that morning, and she needed a few moments of peace. They were going to have a council at sunset, to decide what to do with the prisoner. Carol very much wished that Rick would just pick an option and leave the rest of them out of it. She hadn't signed up to be on any jury.

She stopped in her tracks when she found Carl sitting in the dirt by Sophia's grave. He looked lost in thought. He was probably still hurting too.

"You know we'll see Sophia again in heaven someday."

Carol wasn't entirely sure she believed that, but she remembered what Daryl had said about the forest. Maybe she'd go walking there one day too, side by side with her girl.

Carl didn't say anything.

Carol tried again.

"She's in a better place."

The boy looked up at her, and she was surprised by the coldness in his eyes.

"No she's not. Heaven is just another lie, and if you believe it, you're an idiot."

He stalked off, and she was left gaping after him, a sudden fury building in her chest.

How dare he speak to her that way?

She was sick of it. Being treated like she was beneath all of these people. She had come this far too. She might not be a hunter, or an enforcer, or a cracker jack shot, but damn it she pulled her weight and she took care of these people. They could, at the very least, do what no one else had ever bothered to and treat her decently.

There was a noise from behind her and she turned to see Rick and Lori heading her way.

"You need to control that boy," she said, marching up to them.

"Carl?" Rick asked. "What happened?"

"He's disrespectful."

"Did he say somethin'?"

"Somethin' cruel about Sophia."

"We'll figure it out," Lori said. "It's okay."

"It's not okay!"

Rick got between them, stopping the argument.

"I'll have a talk with him," he said, walking off.

Lori watched him go.

"See? We'll deal with it. If you can calm down, so that I can understand…"

"Don't you tell me to calm down!"

"No, I don't mean…"

"I don't need you to patronize me. Everyone either avoids me, or they treat me like I'm crazy. I lost my daughter; I didn't lose my mind."

She stalked off, wishing that Daryl would just come back already. He had been waiting a long time to see her speak her mind, and she was sorry he had missed it.

Carol felt a pang when she realized that, as things stood, he probably no longer cared very much. She'd pushed him away, and he'd taken it badly.

Well, if she was on her own, then so be it.

She headed back to the RV to sit and wait with Dale. It was nearly sunset.

. . .

Daryl leaned against the door frame and watched as their "council" turned into an argument.

He wasn't about to chime in, but he did wish that they would all just shut up already and do what obviously needed to be done.

Sophia had refused to come back to the house with him. She'd said she would stay in the forest for a while, try to figure out what was going on.

It was a little weird, not having her by his side, but it definitely looked much better for his sanity. What was left of it, anyway.

As the argument got more heated, he looked over at Carol. Her face was pinched, and her cheeks were flushed. She was obviously uncomfortable, but no one had been given reprieve from this thing.

Still, he didn't think that she would want anything to do with this. Wasn't in her nature to take on the tough calls. Not unless she had no other choice.

She must have been more pissed off than he thought, because before he knew it she was raising her voice above the others'.

"Stop it! Just stop it. I'm sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn't ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this. Please decide, either of you, both of you, but leave me out."

Well damn.

Looked like she was showing that same toughness he'd gotten a glimpse of when she'd asked him for that ax. Daryl was glad to see it again.

Dale spoke up, and the moment was broken.

"Not speaking out, or killing him yourself. There's no difference."

Rick intervened.

"Alright, that's enough. Anybody wants the floor, before we make a final decision has the chance."

Silence.

Dale spoke up again.

"You once said that we don't kill the living."

"Well that was before the living tried to kill us."

"Don't you see? If we do this, the people that we were, the world that we knew, is dead!"

Daryl didn't have the heart to tell him that was already true, so he just let Dale finish his speech and ask one more time if there was anyone who would stand with him.

He liked the old man, he really did, but he would not risk the kid escaping and bringing his men back. He couldn't stand the thought of what might happen to Carol; he'd fucked up her life enough as it was.

It didn't look like anyone was going to agree with Dale, until Andrea took them all by surprise.

No one else would though.

Randall would die then.

Daryl felt a sick sense of relief. He wasn't happy about it, but it was the safest thing they could do.

Dale said his piece one last time, and walked up to Daryl. He forced himself to meet the old man's eyes as Dale put a hand on his shoulder.

"This group is broken."

Daryl watched him go, feeling sorry for him.

. . .

Carol was pacing before the camp fire.

Rick had asked Daryl to go with him.

She didn't like it one bit.

"He gonna ask you to pull the trigger too?"

"Don't worry about it. It's out of your hands."

She came to a stop in front of Daryl.

For once, he held her gaze, not even trying to push her away. He looked tired, and resigned.

"Rick asked me to be there, so I will be. I owe him."

"For what?"

He couldn't possibly mean that he still owed Rick for going back to Atlanta to look for Merle. Daryl had more than paid that debt back, with everything he'd done for the group.

"Because he did what I couldn't," Daryl whispered.

Oh.

Sophia.

Carol knew he wouldn't like it, but she leaned up and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger there for a moment.

"Okay," she said, stepping back.

She moved away from him, intending to do some mending in the RV while she tried not to think about what was happening.

"Carol."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for the salve."

Daryl turned and walked off into the dark.

. . .

When Rick came back, not long after, and told them all he was going to find another way, Carol clutched at her heart in relief.

Andrea suggested that they all go find Dale to tell him the good news, when they heard the screams.

. . .

Sophia ran as fast as she could back to Daryl's camp.

She'd figured out what was wrong, and she hoped she wasn't too late.

They were in danger; she needed to tell him.

Before she was very far out of the woods, she heard the screaming.

. . .

Daryl had the kid tied up again and was holding his knife, thinking.

Rick had stepped in and put Sophia out of her misery.

He could do this for Rick, finish was he couldn't.

Dale's voice in his head was telling him again that he was a decent man, and for the moment, it stayed his hand.

Then he heard the screaming.

Daryl gripped his knife more firmly, picked up a nearby lantern, and ran.

. . .

He smelled the thing long before he saw it.

And when he did see it, he saw that it had Dale. That it had torn into him, exposing the man's innards.

Anger and grief welled up in him and he grabbed the Walker, throwing it off of Dale and stabbing it in the brain.

Other lights were coming to meet his, and Daryl yelled out with everything that he had.

"Over here! Over here! Help! Run!"

He knelt down beside Dale, taking the man's hand and trying to check out the damage to his torso.

It looked bad.

"Oh, hang in there buddy."

He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life, not even when he had been lost in the woods or when his baby had come stumbling out of that barn.

Daryl stood when Andrea rushed to Dale's side. Hershel arrived on the scene, and said there was no chance.

Everyone was sobbing, and panicked.

The group was broken again, breaking all around him.

Andrea was holding Dale's hand, and he was looking up into her eyes.

"He's suffering. Do something!"

Rick took up his gun, asking silent permission.

Andrea closed her eyes, calling out to a God that Daryl didn't really believe in at the moment.

Rick pointed his gun at Dale, but didn't take the shot. His hand was shaking.

Time stopped for Daryl in that moment. All of the noise around him died out as he looked up and over at Carol.

She was watching him with steady eyes, looking to him like he had some kind of answer.

Daryl closed his own eyes, memorizing how blue hers were in that moment.

He put his hand out, placing it over Rick's and gently coaxing the gun away from him.

Daryl would do for Dale what he had never been able to do for Sophia.

He would be a decent man.

Kneeling down once more, he pulled back the hammer and Dale leaned up closer to the gun, his eyes pleading with Daryl.

Daryl looked at him for one moment longer…

"Sorry brother."

And pulled the trigger.


	18. Better Angels

A/N: This chapter was even more difficult to write than the last, because who knows what the finale is going to bring us? Sunday promises to be very exciting though, at any rate.

Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, or otherwise dropped me a line. You're all wonderful!

I own nothing.

**Chapter Eighteen: Better Angels**

Carol felt, more than heard, the shot that ended Dale's life, the vibrations of the noise echoing in her chest, traveling through the rest of her body.

She could feel the tears on her face too, but only distantly. For the moment, all she really understood was disbelief.

Dale had been attacked.

Dale was dead.

Andrea was on the ground, her face in her hands, but for once Carol didn't feel the urge to comfort someone in need.

She was too busy looking at Daryl.

His face was stoic, but his eyes were burning with a mixture of grief and pride. Grief for the death he had delivered, no matter how merciful, and pride, she thought, for doing what he had been unable to do for Sophia.

What he would have been able to do for Sophia had he not been holding her back.

Daryl handed the gun back to Rick and looked up, meeting Carol's eyes.

He walked over, and they needed only two words:

"Sheet," she said.

"Shovel," he said.

They went off in separate directions, knowing what had to be done.

. . .

Daryl hurried as quickly as he could back to his camp.

He had a shovel there, and though he knew there were other places he could find one, he needed the momentary space that the trip afforded him.

Dale.

He'd killed Dale.

The only other person who had ever thought he was decent.

Before his thoughts could get too maudlin, he reminded himself that he needed to hurry up. Carol had gone off to the RV on her own, and even though she had a hatchet with her, there was no way to know what other dangers had been drawn to the farm that night.

Then he saw Sophia, curled up outside his tent and crying her eyes out.

She heard his footsteps and shot up to her feet, running over to him.

"Who was it, Daryl? Who was it?"

He swallowed hard.

"Dale," he whispered.

"I tried to get back here in time, to warn you that it was coming, but…"

She was crying again and couldn't talk.

Daryl didn't know what to say; didn't think that there was anything he could say.

Sophia wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt. Daryl put an arm around her and raised his other hand to run his fingers through her hair.

Now he knew he was losing his mind, if he was stuck comforting his own damn ghosts.

. . .

Carol went into the linen cabinet beside the kitchenette, trying not to look at Dale's things. She couldn't really accept that he was never going to need them again.

She reached up and found what she was looking for: the other sheet.

Sophia was buried in its brother, so it was only fitting that the remaining half of the set go to Dale. It had been his to begin with anyway.

She gathered it up quickly, intent on getting back to Daryl. She was worried about him. He put on a brave face, but she knew he had been fond of Dale. He was going to be hurting too.

Making sure the hatchet was secure at her side, she stepped out of the RV, only to see Daryl already heading her way.

They fell into step beside one another, shoulders brushing as they walked.

Carol didn't think he wanted to talk about what he'd just had to do, so she didn't pry, but when she slipped her hand into his, he laced their fingers together and held on tight.

. . .

When they got back to where Dale lay, only Rick, Hershel, and T-Dog were there. Rick had sent the others off to check the perimeter, except for Lori, who had taken Carl back to the house.

Rick took the shovel and sheet from Daryl and Carol.

"We got it from here. Daryl, you get some rest. I'm gonna need you in the morning."

"But…"

"No arguing. Carol, you two stay together. No one is alone tonight."

"Okay."

"Funeral's in the morning."

Without a word, Carol turned around, knowing that Daryl would follow.

When they got back to the RV, she let him turn the bed down while she went into the cabinet that had once held Sophia's things. In the days since Daryl had sent them tumbling to the floor, she'd packed up everything except the last gift Daryl had put together for her baby.

She walked over to the bed, where he had already taken off his boots and settled in.

"Scootch," she said.

"What're you doing?"

"Hush up and you'll see."

She got into bed next to him, and balanced the portable DVD player between both their laps. Without a word, she put the movie in and gave him one of the ear buds so he could listen.

For once, he didn't seem to object to their closeness. His arm went around her shoulders and they watched together quietly.

When they got to the part about the fireflies, she got tears in her eyes, and pretended not to see that his were shining too.

. . .

Daryl stood by Carol's side as Rick eulogized their fallen friend.

He was talking about how good Dale had been, and how he had listened to all of them, always with a kind word of advice afterward.

And how he knew each person for who they really were.

Carol was looking at ground as Rick spoke, but Daryl couldn't stop looking at her. Carol knew just who he was, warts and all, and she had always accepted him that way.

Dale had told him he was a decent man, but Carol had trusted him with so many things he didn't think he would ever really deserve. Even after he'd flipped out on her, she had never stopped looking out for him.

His stomach churned remembering how angry he had been, and what he had said to her. He didn't think he could ever make it right. Not really.

Rick's little speech came to an end, and it was time to get to work.

Carol was still looking at the grave, but Daryl made sure to take her hand and press it before going off with the others to check for Walkers.

. . .

Later, when he was on the porch with Rick, Daryl was glad that the other man accepted his words concerning what had happened the night before.

Rick knew damn well Daryl had been thinking about Sophia, but he had been mercifully silent on that subject.

And now he knew that Daryl wouldn't try to be pulling any of the undermining shit that Shane was. He'd step up and do what needed to be done, but he wouldn't contest Rick's leadership or try to beat the hell out of him either.

Shane drove up just then, and Daryl decided it was a good time to make an exit.

He told Rick he needed to take a piss but when he went into the house he directed his steps to the kitchen instead, where Carol was still putting a backpack together for their prisoner.

"I wouldn't pack too much if I were you. Don't think the kid'll really last that long."

Carol shrugged.

"Maybe not, but I would want a decent chance if I were stuck out there."

He leaned against the counter and watched her work.

"You'd have a pretty good chance."

"You think so?"

"Well, I'd be there, so yeah."

She looked up at him, hope coming into her eyes. And then she smirked.

"You're such a smartass," she muttered.

Daryl leaned in and let his forehead rest against hers for a moment.

"I gotta go pack up the truck."

"Go. And come back soon, and safe."

"Always do."

. . .

Carol was very grateful for the moment they had shared in the kitchen, because a little while later everything had gone to hell.

Again.

And Daryl had gone off with Rick, Shane, and Glenn with just a quick glance back at her. She'd watched his retreating form until Andrea had taken her arm and practically dragged her into the house.

Now night had fallen and still no word.

She had a very bad feeling about everything.

. . .

Sophia watched, helpless, as more and more of Them crossed through the forest.

They were so many, and they were heading straight for the farm.

She couldn't do anything. Her only power was in warning the living. These things, these Walkers, were stuck. They weren't among the living but they weren't her kind either. She could do nothing to help or to stop them.

More than anything, she wanted to get to Daryl, let him know about the herd that was getting closer and closer.

But first she had to get Carl.

There was something he had to take care of.

. . .

Daryl's bullshit detector had been on high alert ever since Shane had come stumbling out of the woods.

Now that night had fallen, he and Glenn waited until Rick and Shane were far enough away from them before doubling back to where they had started.

Only problem was, the moon was hiding, and Daryl couldn't make out a damn thing.

"This is pointless. Gimme a light."

Glenn handed him a flashlight, which he shone along the ground, grumbling until he was finally able to pick up a trail.

"We're just back to square one," Glenn said.

"Yeah. You wanna do a thing, you might as well do it right."

He moved the beam a little further along.

"There's two sets of tracks right here. Kid must've followed 'im a lot longer than he said."

Daryl looked up and noticed something dark on the tree just in front of them.

Blood.

Something was definitely up.

He pointed the flashlight back down at the ground.

"There's more tracks. It's like they're walkin' in tandem."

An owl cried out not far from where they were, and Glenn jumped so bad he bumped right into Daryl.

"Sorry."

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Daryl might have laughed at the look on Glenn's face. Damn kid was still scared of him. After everything they'd been through and seen, it was almost funny.

He returned his gaze to the task at hand.

"There's a little dust up right here. Somethin' went down."

"This is gettin' weird."

And then Daryl saw it: Randall's blindfold.

"Hello trouble."

Glenn bent down to pick it up, just as they heard a noise behind them.

Something was stumbling around.

They took cover behind a couple of trees, realizing that it was a Walker, coming their way. Daryl remembered that Glenn didn't have any quiet weapon on him, so he gave a low whistle and tossed the kid his knife.

The Walker came on them just then, knocking Glenn out of the way.

It turned on Daryl, and he realized it was too close; he couldn't fire his bow, not without the risk of hitting Glenn. He shoved the bow between him and the Walker instead, and when Glenn got back up, he shoved the thing back into Glenn's arms so the kid could get a good grip on it.

Glenn shoved the corpse away from him, knocked it down, and stuck the knife into its skull.

Daryl shined the light on the body, just to make sure.

It was dead.

For real this time.

He chuffed Glenn on the arm.

"Nice."

Glenn just looked queasy.

They knelt down to take a closer look, and realized that the Walker was Randall.

Glenn gave Daryl a look and pulled the knife out of Randall's skull. Daryl leaned closer so he could get a better look.

It didn't look like anything had taken a chunk out of him.

He just looked dead.

"Got his neck broke," Daryl said, not quite sure what to make of the whole thing.

He turned the body over and lifted up its shirt, just to double check.

"He's got no bites."

"Yeah, none you can see.

"Naw, I'm tellin' ya. He died from this," Daryl said, gesturing to the kid's neck.

His eyes met Glenn's, and they both knew that this was not good.

"How's that possible?"

Daryl didn't know how to answer that, so he got back to his feet, Glenn following him.

First things first:

They'd find Rick, and tell him just what Shane had gotten up to in the woods.

Then they'd talk about how they were probably all fucked beyond belief.

. . .

Carl was looking out across the fields from one of the second story windows when he saw her:

Sophia was standing on the ground below, waving at him frantically.

She looked scared, and she kept gesturing for him to come down, and pointing across the field.

Carl got a sudden, sick feeling.

His dad was in trouble.

He snuck downstairs and out of the house so that he could follow Sophia.

. . .

Carol chanced a quick glance out of the parlor window.

No sign of anyone.

There was a light step on the porch and Carol looked out to her right.

She nearly screamed, but she knew that what she was seeing must be impossible.

Sophia was standing on the porch, watching her.

She waved her hand, signaling for Carol to step back from the window. Carol was so shocked that she actually did.

Then Sophia was standing in full view. She put her little hand up to the glass, and Carol matched her movements.

They stood there, drinking in the sight of each other, until Carol blinked and Sophia was gone.

A shot went off in the distance, and Carol suddenly felt sick.

Something awful was about to happen.


	19. Beside the Dying Fire

A/N: Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, but it was absolutely beastly trying to write it! Work and life have been fairly hectic too. All I can say is, it is going to be a long summer until our show comes back.

I'm still not sure what to do with the moment we got at the end of the episode, so I'm not going to go that far. Maybe when the next season starts up I can visit it, but for now I'm going to stick with everything else up until Daryl comes across Glenn and Maggie on the road. There's some fluff too, because the finale had lots of angst. Gotta balance it out, you know?

Many, many thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, especially jaded79, KajaM, and beneath the stars. It's been lovely getting to know all of you, and I have enjoyed our conversations so much!

I own nothing, because otherwise this show would be too fluffy.

**Chapter Nineteen: Beside the Dying Fire**

Sophia watched, helpless, as more and more and more of Them poured into the forest, and onto Hershel's land. There was nothing she could do; they would find her family, and her family was probably going to die.

She'd gone to get Carl, so that he could save his father, and she hadn't been able to help herself: she'd needed to see her mother one last time, because when those things took over the farm she wasn't sure if her mother would come join her.

Dale had though, so maybe her mom would come, too.

"Sophia, you're sure there's nothing we can do?" Dale asked, looking on in dismay.

"Nothing. The forest is ours, and if the people on the farm make it here, we can keep them safe enough, but there's no way they'll be able to cut right through this herd like that."

Dale hadn't asked how she'd ended up there. When he'd shown up earlier in the day, they had simply walked off together, and Sophia had told him the rules. The forest was hers, and she could keep their family safe, but the walking dead were beyond her control. It was just the way things were.

"You know, I always thought I'd see Joan again, when I died."

"You might. This could only be a visit."

"If she comes, would you like to come with us?"

Sophia thought about Daryl, and her mom. If anything happened to them, she wanted to make sure she would be there if they came to the forest. She liked Dale, but she just had to be certain.

"We'll see, once the night passes."

There were shots fired in the distance; it had begun.

. . .

Carol was standing slightly apart from the others, still unsure what to make of what she had seen a little while ago.

Sophia.

Sophia had been in the window.

And she'd looked upset.

Carol was either losing her mind, or things were about to get even worse for their group.

The door opened, breaking off her train of thought, and Daryl and Glenn came into the parlor. Her eyes immediately sought Daryl's, their exchange a bit frantic but silent:

_You okay?_ hers asked.

_Fine_, his answered.

He looked at the rest of the group.

"Rick and Shane ain't back?"

Lori came forward.

"No."

"We heard a shot."

"Maybe they found Randall."

Daryl shook his head.

"We found 'im."

"Is he back in the shed?" Patricia asked.

"He's a Walker."

Carol's stomach turned at the thought of more Walkers on the farm. When they'd first arrived, there had only been stragglers, but since then the groups had been bigger and bigger. The morning of Dale's funeral Daryl and the others had put down quite a few.

"Did you find the Walker that bit 'im?" Hershel asked.

"No, weird thing is, he wasn't bit," Glenn said.

"His neck was broke," Daryl explained.

"So he fought back," Patricia said.

Somehow, Carol didn't think so. Something was wrong.

Daryl's eyes met hers again, sensing her distress.

_Later. We'll talk about this later._

He returned his gaze to the rest of the group.

"The thing is, Shane and Randall's tracks were right on top of each other. And Shane ain't no tracker. So he didn't come up behind 'im. They were together."

Lori moved very close to Daryl, a pleading look on her face.

"Would you please get back out there and find Rick and find out what on earth is going on?"

Daryl nodded.

"You got it."

Carol felt a bit annoyed at his easy agreement. He'd been cleaning up a lot of messes lately, especially for Rick, Lori, and Shane.

And her, she reminded herself.

The first mess he'd taken on was her.

The guilt she felt coming over her again was quickly replaced by sick dread.

Glenn had left the door open behind him and Daryl, and Carol could hear the moans.

So many, many, many moans.

. . .

Daryl stopped in his tracks out on the porch.

_Fuck_.

There were so many, all headed their way, and he couldn't see through to the end of the herd.

_Fuck!_

Hershel turned to Patricia and told her to kill the lights, get the guns, and get back in the house.

Daryl knew that just wasn't going to cut it. Not this time.

"Unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about, herd that size'll rip the house down."

Lori came out, freaking out because she couldn't find her boy, but Daryl couldn't take his eyes off of the herd. With everything that had happened recently, he had forgotten to worry about the horde of undead that was roaming out there.

And there were more of them this time.

The others were talking about making a break for the cars, leading the geeks off of the farm with them. He returned his attention to Hershel.

"You serious?"

"It's my farm. I'll die here."

Man picked a funny time to grow a pair, but Daryl wasn't about to argue.

"Alright. It's as good a night as any."

He jumped off the porch and made a break for it. He'd take out as many Walkers as he could on the way to his bike and hope that this would work.

As he ran, he sent up a silent prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening that Carol would be okay.

. . .

Carol could have sworn her heart stopped when she came back out on that porch and Daryl wasn't there. They couldn't find Carl, Lori was losing her mind, Carol was unarmed, and now Daryl was out there in the herd somewhere…

What if…?

She shook her head.

No.

He was fine.

Daryl was always fine, no matter what.

And she had to make sure, right now, that Lori, Beth, and Patricia would be, because Lori was freaking out. She would take care of things here and now so she could get to Daryl later.

She would get back to Daryl later.

Lori was pointing off in the distance, saying that Carl had gone that way. If they followed, they would just lead these monsters right to Lori's little boy.

"No, you'll lead them right to 'im. We can't stay here!" Carol said, grabbing Lori's arms and shaking her a bit, trying to snap her out of it.

"But that's my boy!"

Carol knew exactly how Lori felt. She'd gone through the same thing when Sophia had gone running off the highway…

And Lori had held her back, something for which she was grateful for, as she most certainly would have been bit. But…she also hated the other woman, just a little, because maybe if she had let go, Carol could have gotten to Sophia in time…

Now wasn't the time for speeches though.

"You're gonna have to trust. If we find him he's gonna need his mother. We've got to go!"

A little sanity came back into Lori's eyes, and she nodded, pulling out her gun.

"Get the others!"

Carol ran back into the house to get Beth and Patricia while Lori tried to get Hershel to come with them.

When she came back out, the old man was still holding his ground, picking off any Walkers that got too close.

Lori tried again to get Hershel to go, but Carol knew they couldn't wait a moment longer. Hershel was armed; they would all have to trust that he would catch up to them once his ammo ran low.

"C'mon! Now!"

The next few minutes were a horrible blur.

They hadn't gotten too far from the house when there was a horrible scream. Carol and Lori turned around to see that some Walkers had gotten Patricia. Lori shoved Carol forward and went back to grab Beth before she fell prey too.

Just then, a whole swarm of undead cut Carol off from Lori and Beth. She met Lori's eyes across the distance and shook her head before she took off running.

Carol wasn't really sure where she could go, so she just ran.

There was the shed. Carol propped herself up against it for just a second, trying to catch her breath. She was no runner; she was already starting to feel the consequences of her exertion.

And there was a whole mess of Walkers coming right at her.

This was it.

And she had no weapon.

She cast her eyes around desperately, and there on the ground was a huge stick. It wouldn't last long, but at least whoever found her wouldn't be able to say that Carol hadn't died without a fight.

Just as she was about to clock the Walker closest to her, its head exploded.

Someone had shot it.

Andrea.

Carol had never been so relieved to see the other woman.

Then there was another, right on Andrea.

"Look out!"

She saw, and heard, Andrea shoot it, and started to run again.

"C'mon!"

Carol ran a decent way up the dirt road before turning to make conversation with her savior.

"Thanks for…Andrea?"

The other woman was nowhere to be seen.

Carol could have sworn that she was right on her tail.

"Oh no. No no no no no."

She had no choice.

She had to go back.

Andrea deserved at least that.

. . .

"You know where I think she is? Joan, I mean?"

Dale was doing what he could to distract Sophia, but it wasn't really working out. She was polite though, and gave him what attention she could.

"Where?"

"We bought this beach house, about fifteen years ago. She'd always wanted one, and I was never one to say no to her. We got this little old bungalow up in New Jersey, along the Shore, you know?"

"Hopefully far away from the crazy people on that TV show."

Dale chuckled.

"It was, though of course there wasn't a show yet. Anyway, that was Joan's favorite project. She fixed it all up, and made it wonderful. We were gonna retire and finish things out there…and then she got sick. She never got to enjoy it."

"I'm sorry."

"I figure she's there. Like she always wanted to be. She's coming back this way, but that's where she's been."

Sophia was staring off, watching the barn burning in the distance.

"I've never seen the ocean," she murmured.

Dale would take that victory, small as it was.

. . .

Andrea was gone.

Carol had circled back three times, and every single time she had come up with nothing but more Walkers on her tail.

They were just… _everywhere_.

And she didn't have a weapon.

She sent up a silent prayer that Daryl at least had been spared the fate she was about to meet.

Her legs were getting really tired.

A grimy, rotting hand closed around her arm and Carol let out a scream, freeing herself just in time.

She was really tired, but maybe she wasn't done fighting just yet.

. . .

Daryl watched the barn burn.

He only regretted that he hadn't set fire to it himself.

Maybe…maybe with the barn gone, Sophia would leave him alone. She didn't deserve to be stuck with him; she should be out and seeing the world, like she never got to.

The fire had reached the point where he could actually see through the barn, and he hoped it collapsed soon.

That's where his girl had been all along; the fucking thing deserved to burn.

He only wished Carol was there with him. Daryl didn't know if the peace they had reached the night before was only temporary or not, but she deserved to see this too.

_I'm… Aw hell, I'm sorry I yelled at you like that._

_It's okay; I know why you did._

_That don't make it okay though._

_It's done, Daryl. You're here now. I'm just glad you're here._

They'd talked like that long after they'd finished watching the movie. He'd fallen asleep next to Carol for the second time, and it had been better than the first. It meant more, somehow, last night. They'd come a long way.

Daryl's eyes and thoughts were pulled away from the burning barn when he heard a scream.

It was Carol.

_Fuck_. _What was she still doing on the farm?_

His heart was thundering against his ribs as he kicked the bike into gear and went in the direction the scream had come from.

There she was, stumbling away from some Walkers. She was hysterical, and her steps were faltering.

He pulled up near her, and she looked like she had never been so happy to see him.

"C'mon! I ain't got all day."

Carol climbed on behind him and they took off.

Her arms were trembling as they wrapped around his waist and when she let her head fall against the back of his neck he could feel the tears pouring down her face.

Woman could cry all she wanted to; she was safe now.

. . .

The man, woman, and child watched as Daryl and Carol rode away from the farm.

Sophia looked up at Dale's wife, her eyes solemn.

"May I call you Joan?"

"Of course, dear."

"I think I will go with you and Dale."

"We'd love that," Dale said, smiling down at her.

"Just…there's one more thing I need to do, okay?"

. . .

Carol clung to Daryl as he steered the bike through the early morning fog.

She had thought everyone was gone; that she was on her own.

And then Daryl had come back.

For her, of all people.

Her arms went a little tighter around his waist; she was relishing the feeling of having him so close. He was alive, he was safe, and he had come back for her.

She snuck looks out over his shoulder from time to time, but all she could see was a bunch of Walkers, and dense fog.

After a while, it looked like they were in the clear, for now.

Daryl slowed the bike to a stop and turned around to face her. For the first time, she saw something akin to panic in his eyes, and it worried her.

And then his hands were all over her.

"Are you okay? They didn't get ya?"

He was afraid.

For her.

Carol felt her cheeks flush and had barely stammered out that she was fine, before she saw something over his shoulder that caused the color to flee from her cheeks as quickly as it had come.

Daryl turned, grabbing for his crossbow, but then he saw what Carol did.

Sophia was standing in the middle of the road.

And she looked so beautiful, and healthy, and _alive_.

Daryl looked back at Carol again, biting his lip.

"You can see her too?"

"What do you… You can see her? Daryl, you can see Sophia right now?"

"Daryl's been able to for a long time, mom."

Carol let out a sob.

She never thought she'd hear her little girl's voice again.

Sophia walked up to them, and took Carol's hand in her tiny one.

"I'm sorry I didn't come see you sooner, but Daryl needed me. He wouldn't let himself need you, so I had to stick around."

"My baby…"

Carol reached out and cupped her daughter's cheek. She looked just as she had in life, but she felt entirely different. Sophia's skin was ice cold, and felt strange. Almost as if she was coated in some sort of powder, or something. Just not one that Carol could see.

"I've been in the forest, mom. It's real pretty. Daryl gave it to me, you know."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry…I never…I didn't mean…"

Carol had never heard Daryl sound so uncertain, and so sad. She smiled at him, though.

"I don't think you have anything to be sorry for," Carol murmured.

She was pretty certain that they had both lost their minds, but if it meant that Sophia had gotten to be in the forest, to live out her favorite story and be like Evangeline, then Carol was just fine with parting from her sanity.

Sophia was happy. Daryl had made her happy.

It was all Carol had ever wanted for her girl, and had never really been able to do for her. Not til the whole damn world came crashing down around them, and Daryl had talked to her over fireflies that one morning.

"You're going, aren't you?" Daryl asked, his voice thick with emotion. "You're here to say goodbye."

Sophia nodded.

"It's time to stop wandering," she said, looking Daryl in the eye.

Sophia turned back to Carol and walked right into her arms. For the last time, she held her daughter close, squeezing tightly and hoping that it would somehow make up for not being able to even give her child an embrace in the end.

A warm weight settled against her side: Daryl.

He let his cheek rest on top of Sophia's head for a moment and pulled away, his eyes red and his jaw taught.

Carol gave Sophia one last squeeze, and then her little girl was walking back off into the fog, and out of her life for the last time. She watched her retreating form until she couldn't see it anymore.

Daryl wasn't looking at her, but his hand held hers in a death grip.

When Sophia was truly gone, he revved up the bike and they went on their way.

Carol buried her face in the middle of his shoulders, not caring this time if he knew that she cried.

. . .

Daryl drove, hardly seeing the road in front of him.

They were on their own now.

Sophia had been what brought them together, and without her he just didn't know what Carol could want from him anymore. He'd saved her because he needed her, he knew that now and wasn't afraid of admitting it.

At least, to himself.

But he still wasn't very sure what Carol wanted.

His thoughts were interrupted by a set of tail lights up ahead of them, weaving all over the road.


	20. Seed

A/N: And we're back! Hope everyone had a happy hiatus! I was hoping to do more stories from this fandom, but for various real life reasons this summer was just bad. However, it's good to be back, and hopefully the ideas will be coming a little easier from here on out.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has read and commented. I truly appreciate every one of you.

**Chapter Twenty: Seed**

His strong hand kneaded her shoulder and she relaxed into his touch.

It'd been months since they'd first been together, but she still couldn't quite believe that she had ever gotten so close to him. In the beginning, he'd been skittish if she so much as looked at him, but now, when they had the time, and they weren't swaying on their feet from sheer exhaustion, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her.

. . .

_Six months earlier_

They'd been running for a couple of months. The herd that had taken over the farm wasn't the only one they'd had to contend with. There was another one keeping them hedged in for the foreseeable future. Thankfully, they'd found a defensible boarding house. Once they'd cleared out the former occupants, there was more than enough room for them to hunker down for a while.

"We can't stay you know," Daryl said, startling Carol out of her thoughts.

She'd been putting some folded laundry into the bureau of the room she was sharing with Beth. Since Sophia had gone on, she'd taken to looking out for the girl. Carol had lost her baby, but she was still a mother, and she felt like one through her new friendship with Beth.

"I know. It just helps, I guess, feeling like I'm setting up shop. There's too much danger from the herds. I get it."

He nodded.

"We're gonna check out the supermarket down the road, see if there's anything left."

"I'll get my gun."

. . .

There wasn't much left at the market that would be usable, but the group split up to make a thorough sweep of the area anyway. You never knew what you were going to find, and it was only smart to take a second look.

For once, she saw the Walker before Daryl did. He was bent over their pack, rearranging the cans they'd picked up so he could make room for the prenatal vitamins they'd spotted further along the aisle. Lori was going to need all the help she could get during her pregnancy.

Carol's hand went to the hatchet she now constantly kept by her side; it would be too risky to use the gun. She didn't know how many other Walkers were in the area. These days, the sound of a gunshot could carry for miles in their quiet and empty world.

She steeled herself and strode right up to the thing, swinging the blade down into its skull before it barely got off a growl. Black ooze seeped out of the wound she had made and the Walker fell to the floor.

It was her first kill, and it was a good one.

She turned around, hoping to catch Daryl's eye and hopefully a smile.

He was already marching toward her, and his face was grim. His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her close, burying his face in the side of her neck.

"Daryl?"

"Damn woman. That was good," he growled.

He kissed the side of her neck, and suddenly she was electrified.

His lips made a slow path up to her jawbone and then he was kissing her.

She'd thought about how it would happen for so long, but never once had her daydreams involved a supermarket and a corpse not even ten feet from them.

Carol told herself to shut up and wound her arms around his neck, leaning more solidly against him.

Daryl had nearly backed her up into the shelving when they heard the sounds of Rick and T-Dog approaching. He broke the kiss and quickly jogged back down the aisle to get their pack.

The others came upon them, and Carol expecting the moment to be over, but as they moved to grab the vitamins and join the others, he took her hand firmly in his, never letting go until they had to get back outside.

. . .

Carol went to his room later that night, intent on finally finishing what they had started. To begin something new together.

And Beth was suddenly deprived of a roommate.

. . .

And now, they had found the prison.

As the fire died down and the others began to drift off, she was still sitting up with him, eyeing the Walkers on the other side of the interior fence.

"We'll have to make a sweep of them tomorrow."

"Yes. Best we get inside as soon as we can."

She leaned against him, and his arm came around her shoulders.

He was so quiet that if she hadn't been pressed against him, she wouldn't have heard him: he was humming.

"What's that?"

"Old Dylan song."

"Oh?"

He shrugged.

"Others got me thinkin: can't remember the last time I heard music."

"Didn't know you liked Bob Dylan."

"Always have. Momma did too. Even Merle."

"What were you humming just now?"

"Not Dark Yet. He's saying how he's seen it all, and he ain't lookin for nothin in other people. Everything's started to fade to black, but he just keeps sayin it's not there yet."

"There's still some light left."

"Yeah."

He kissed the top of her head.

"It's not dark yet Carol."


	21. Sick

A/N: This chapter's quite short, as things have been hectic with holiday preparations. The next couple chapters should be a little longer.

Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, and follow.

A happiest of Thanksgivings to you all!

**Chapter Twenty-One**: **Sick**

Carol held the knife over the dead girl's stomach, the reality of just what she was about to do finally sinking in.

This woman had meant something to someone once, and now she was nothing more than Carol's guinea pig.

_Best not to think along those lines._

She gripped the knife a little harder and lowered it to the sickly, mottled flesh Carol had exposed when she'd lifted the girl's dress.

Now wasn't the time for sentimentality.

. . .

Sophia had been born by C-section. It had been in the days before fancy new procedures, so Carol still bore quite the scar across her abdomen.

That mark was a testament; she loved it, even now.

Lori had said Carl had been born the same way, and Carol hadn't been able to get the thought out of her mind since Hershel had been down for the count.

Both women had birthed their children when the world was still whole. They'd had dedicated doctors, all the right tools, and a sterile, safe environment.

Now, the prison had an infirmary, but they were kidding themselves if they thought for one second that cutting Lori open was remotely safe. Any number of things could go wrong.

Carol wasn't about to make things worse by having clumsy hands.

The knife slid into the dead girl's flesh and Carol let the rest of the world fall away.


End file.
